Fireball Outfit
by ChocolateTurnip
Summary: Modern AU. When an atrocious crime is committed at the Fireball Circus, fortune teller Erzsébet is determined to find the perpetrator at all costs. But as the mystery deepens, the stakes get higher, throwing Erzsébet's safety, her friends, and her growing feelings for a certain Austrian pianist into peril.
1. Chapter 1

_This is a de-anon from the Hetalia Kink Meme, where the request was a mystery story with Hungary as the protagonist. It is a human AU, and is set in modern-day. Despite some darker themes and occurrences, it is broadly a lighthearted story. Or at least, in my opinion._

 _Pairings: Austria/Hungary (main), Germany/Italy (side)_

 _Warnings: Language, violence, and a couple of non-explict intimate scenes/references in later chapters. Also, a warning for implied suicide in the first chapter._

* * *

 _Fireball Outfit: A travelling circus with a reputation for dishonest and illegal practices. (Circus Lingo)_

* * *

 _Anyone who called it the 'easy way out' was a liar._

 _This was by far the hardest thing that he had ever done. The rope coiled like writhing snakes between his fingers, almost too thick to tie into a proper loop. Or maybe he was making excuses. Maybe it was the fact that his hands wouldn't stop shaking which proved the deed impossible._

 _He had not expected it to end like this. In a way, he supposed it was fitting. He had spent almost his entire youth on the stage, wasting away his fifteen minutes of fame in front of an adoring crowd. Countless hours of his time were dedicated to dressing rooms, where he sat in front of the mirror and prepared the gorgeous face that made his name._ _This_ _dressing room was so similar it made him feel nostalgic; regimented square structure, wardrobe, dressing table, a bottle of his favourite resting on the shelf, gaudy fairy lights decorating the walls… the only difference was that the mirror now had a cover. The last thing he wanted was to see the hideousness that he'd become._

 _It took three more draughts from his bottle to sufficiently dull the fear. His head felt cloudier this time but his hands had become miraculously steady, allowing him to tie the clumsy knot. When he wrenched it over his head— sweeping aside clumps of matted hair— he was surprised to find that it was a perfect fit. The thought was not a comforting one._

 _He lingered on his tiptoes for a full fifteen minutes. Quite why taking the leap should be so difficult was a mystery to him. He had decided a long time ago that life without love was not a life worth living. He had always known that if anything,_ _anything,_ _ever befell his sweetheart he'd follow before there was even time for them to turn cold in their grave. He wondered too why he didn't feel more angry. Undeniably there were others to blame for this, and vengeance would have been such an easy option. Yet he knew by now that the easiest option was not always the right one to take._

 _No, his only real regret was for the ones left behind. In a perfect world he would have stayed on for their sakes alone, but he knew that took a kind of strength he did not possess. He only hoped they would be able to forgive him one day. Or at least understand why he had to do this._

 _In the end, the only easy part of the act was dying itself. Barely a second after the fateful step and it was all over— the rope snapping around his neck to cut away his last slither of life. There wasn't any screaming, or any blood. There wasn't even any pain. Just his body swinging back and forth and back again like a pendulum, glad to die for love._

 _..._

 _September 2014_

 _A small town in Bavaria_

The crystal ball illuminated the tent with an ethereal glow. Shadows flickered in the corners like timid ghosts, and pinpricks of fire from candles were quivering in dangerous unison. The air tightened into a held breath; silent and still, heavy and hot. Behind the orb, draped in shawls and mystic jewellery, sat a woman named Erzsébet Héderváry. As she began to concentrate on the ball's cloudy depths, her nerves thrilled with anticipation. It didn't matter how many years went by, she would always remain tantalised by the atmosphere of reading the future. After all, it was in her blood. Erzsébet remembered when her obsession began, back in Hungary when she was only a girl. Her grandmother had been a fortune teller before her, and Erzsébet used to spend hours watching on in awe while she practiced her ancient art.

The way in which she'd decorated her tent was partly in testament to those heady childhood days. From the outside, it looked like an onion dome from some eastern city, adorned with red, white and green swirls. On the inside, Erzsébet had done her best to make it look as exotic as possible. The lighting was always low, mostly from candles and burning incense sticks. Boxes were scattered around a carpet printed with zodiac signs, each bearing a large 'KEEP OUT' placard. Whenever anyone asked, Erzsébet told them that they held secrets so dangerous that they could not even been seen by the human eye. In reality, they just contained volumes of her favourite Boy's Love manga. But as Erzsébet often rationalised to herself, what her customers didn't know would not necessarily hurt them.

Erzsébet cast her hands over the orb, careful to keep the lighting dim. This was not an official crystal ball reading; it would be wasteful for her to expend more energy than needed here. Instead, she focused her attention on her subject, who was bobbing up and down on the opposite side of the table. The boy looked every inch a typical circus-goer. He was roughly ten years old, painfully enthusiastic, and wore a laughable sailor's outfit that was a couple of sizes too small. His aura bounced around him dutifully in bright baby blue, unable to keep itself still. Lowering her voice, Erzsébet prepared herself for the familiar display.

"I sense an eager, vivid aura inside you," she told him, "This signifies a curious and adventurous spirit, as well as a determination to be important in the world. Challenges will present themselves to you freely, and you must decide which ones are worth your while."

The boy raised a pair of enormous golden eyebrows. "That definitely sounds like me! Hey Charlotte, Charlotte," He turned excitedly towards his friend, a girl about his own age who was lingering by the entrance. "Did you hear that? It shows that I'm going to be important!"

The girl folded her arms with an embarrassed sigh. Erzsébet could see a muted pink aura wavering around her as if it wasn't sure it wanted to be there. "Shows you've got a big head more like it," the girl said.

"There are disadvantages in this, however," Erzsébet continued, caressing her fingers over the orb's reverse side, "You should not allow yourself to become _too_ curious. Exercise caution whenever you make decisions, and do not get mixed up in matters which don't concern you."

"Oh yeah?" the boy said challengingly, "And what's going to happen if I don't?"

"Who can tell, who can tell?" Erzsébet said. She left a pause for dramatic effect, and switched to a harsh whisper. "But I wouldn't risk it if I were you. It could even prove to be fatal!"

As usual, her announcement had the required effect. The boy sat bolt upright and his eyes widened in terrified fascination. "Th—that's awfully cool!" he said, although he now sounded a lot more shaken than he did excited, "Hey, hey, can you do Charlotte's future too?"

The girl by the entrance almost jumped out of her skin. "What? No way, I'm not wasting my money on magic that doesn't work," she spluttered.

"It does too work! All that stuff about me is going to come true, you see if it doesn't. Or maybe you're just scared, is that it?"

"No! It's just… I'm getting hungry. Can't we go and get food or something?"

After a brief discussion about the relative merit of the snack cart, the children left. Erzsébet could still hear them bickering about whether or not the display had been real until they disappeared out of earshot. She smiled to herself knowingly. She couldn't help noticing how Charlotte's aura had flared when the boy grabbed her hand to lead her from the tent. As much as it was probably unethical to ship children, instinct told her they would make an adorable couple when they were older. She considered using her powers to see if the relationship had any future, then decided against it, and dimmed the crystal ball. Her own emerald green aura instantly vanished out of sight. Reaching across the table, Erzsébet retrieved the Euros that the boy left her and pocketed them. This was not where she made the real money, of course; that came with the nightly performances as part of the travelling Fireball Circus. All the same, it often surprised her how much of a profit could accumulate from the hoard of day-to-day visitors.

With noting else to do, Erzsébet fetched her favourite _Tsubasa_ doujinshi from one of the boxes and settled down to read. She was so engrossed in the story that she failed to notice the approach of light footsteps a few minutes later as a figure snuck inside the tent. In fact, it was only when the visitor stood directly behind her that she finally noticed their presence. She made to turn around, then yelled as a pair of hands covered her eyes.

"Hey Erzsi," said a familiar voice, "I caught you daydreaming again!"

Erzsébet pulled herself free without much difficulty. "I wasn't _daydreaming,_ I was reading about Kurogane and Fai's pure love for each other," she said crossly, "Anyway Feliks, you've got to stop sneaking up on me like this."

Erzsébet's best friend tossed his hair and placed his hands on his hips. He was wearing an impressively small checked miniskirt, which made Erzsébet think of schoolgirls. "Uh uh, Erzsi. I'm not Feliks when I'm dressed like this, remember, I'm—"

"Miss Fabulous, drag queen extraordinaire, I remember," Erzsébet said, "But you'd better change before the circus meeting. I'm pretty sure Ludwig only wants to discuss plans for tonight's performance with Feliks Lukasiewicz."

"Yeah yeah, I can, like, do that later. Why are you so obsessed with this meeting anyway? You've barely talked about anything else recently."

Erzsébet removed one of her heavier shawls and began folding it up. "No reason. I just think it's going to be an interesting one that's all," she said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"You've seen something in your ball, haven't you?" Feliks said, "Bet it's something to do with one of your couples."

"I might have seen a slight flash."

"I knew it!" Feliks winked and flicked out his tongue. "Damn girl, I'm not saying you aren't talented or anything, but why d'you always use it to pair people up? You could be doing something way more useful."

Erzsébet considered this. It was true that she employed her prophesising skills somewhat… selectively, but then again she didn't choose what the orb told her. Besides, she wasn't going to stop playing the matchmaker anytime soon. It was far and away her favourite hobby. "What do you mean, 'more useful'?" she asked.

"Like reading my fortune, for example!" Feliks said, sitting down opposite, "C'mon, I wanna know if my drag performance tonight is going to be a total sell-out."

"Haven't you read the sign outside?" Erzsébet said, "It's ten Euros for a crystal ball reading, five for tea leaves, three for tarot cards or aura analysis. Palm reading is free."

"Fine, you can read my palm then. But why is it free?"

"Because…" Erzsébet hesitated. She was actually quite reluctant to confess this. "Because I can never get it to work properly. I keep messing up the life line part. I did it once for Gilbert when we were dating, and it said that he was going to die before he reached thirty."

Feliks pouted with the effort of contemplation. "Well how old is he now? It could still easily happen, right?"

"That's not funny, Feliks."

"Whatever, just do it, girl!" He held out his hands expectantly. "Only don't ruin my manicure, okay? I spent, like, all morning on that."

Erzsébet sighed, but she could tell that he wasn't about to give in any time soon. She deliberated over which palm she ought to examine. It was supposed to be the right palm for a woman and the left for a man, but she compromised by taking both of his hands into hers. "Well, your heart lines begin below your middle fingers," she started, "That's not exactly surprising."

"Why, what does it mean?"

"That you're selfish when it comes to love." Erzsébet looked up and grinned. "And you wonder why I never try to set _you_ up with anyone."

Feliks pouted. "I so am _not_ _!_ I could be a wicked boss boyfriend if I wanted to, I just haven't met the right person."

"Haven't met anyone who could deal with your sass you mean," Erzsébet muttered, "Oh, and your head line is wavy— that shows you have a short attention span…"

"That's totally untrue as well!" Feliks said indignantly.

Erzsébet gave him an incredulous look. "The one time I was having relationship problems, Feliks. _The one time."_

"Hey! It's possible to be a sympathetic listener _and_ doodle ponies at the same time."

"You know, this _is_ proving a lot more accurate than usual," mused Erzsébet, "Perhaps I should start charging in future."

"Don't say that!"

Erzsébet continued with the reading, analysing every detail of Feliks' hand. Every detail, that was, aside from one. A small twitch of apprehension ran through her as she reached the final part. It felt like she had only been postponing what was bound to be an inevitable failure. Ignoring her dread, she traced the long curve around Feliks' left thumb and compared it to the other. Both hands seemed to be pointing towards the same conclusion: a stark, unmistakable result. Erzsébet snorted. No, that was too ridiculous.

"What's so funny?" Feliks asked.

"Your life line," Erzsbet said, letting go of his hands, "I told you I keep messing up that part— it says that you're going to die within the next twenty four hours."

They stared at each other in deafening silence. Erzsébet was scared for a moment that Feliks might take the news seriously. But to her relief, he finally sniggered, and burst into peals of laughter. "No way! I'm not even going to make to the end of the week? Erzsi, that's hysterical!"

"Well, I did say I was terrible at it. I just wish I knew _why_ ," said Erzsébet. She had always known and accepted that palmistry was one of the most difficult brands of divination. It was infamous for producing unpredictable results, yet her inability to master it was still a point of humiliation.

"Oh I dunno, you could be, like, totally right about this." Feliks wiped his eyes on the back of his hand. "Does it say how I'm going to drop dead, then?"

"No, we'd have to use tea leaves for that, and some other time too," Erzsébet said, checking her watch, "The meeting is in five minutes and if we're late, the prophecy might be fulfilled by Ludwig killing us. If you don't want to be Feliks in a skirt, go and put some trousers on!"

As he was making his way out, Feliks stopped by the entrance and smirked. "Wait, maybe I, like, shouldn't come to this meeting since I'm going to die," he said, "Maybe I should stay here and compose an epitaph instead."

Erzsébet threw her shawl in his direction, forcing him to duck out of sight. "Idiot! Just hurry up and get ready."

* * *

 _Charlotte: Wy_


	2. Chapter 2

Whenever Ludwig called a circus meeting, there were always two certainties. The first was that, no matter how late anyone else happened to be, the three Vargas brothers would inevitably arrive last. So when Erzsébet and Feliks reached the Ringmaster's tent slightly after the designated time, it was no surprise to see several other chairs unoccupied. Erzsébet apologised to the Ringmaster, Ludwig Beilschmidt, as they entered.

"That's quite alright," Ludwig said, glancing up from a pile of notes, "You're not even the last— er, not even the second-last, that is. We still happen to be waiting for Antonio too."

Erzsébet and Feliks took their seats gratefully. Of all the tents at the circus, the Ringmaster's was both the biggest and the most technologically advanced. The main area was set out like a boardroom, with the long table and stiff-backed chairs creating the unpleasant illusion of an office. Several household items lurked in the corners— including a fridge, a microwave oven, and a coffee machine— and were plugged into Ludwig's homemade generator. Aside from Antonio and the Vargas brothers, all the other performers were present. Belle Van Rijn sat between her brothers, and nodded in Erzsébet's direction. Alfred Jones, the brash American gunslinger, was slurping the last of a milkshake and managed a brief wave. The only person who did not greet Erzsébet was the pale-haired man who sat at Ludwig's side. He did, however, greet Feliks in the typical fashion, by pulling down one eyelid and sticking out his tongue. Feliks returned the vitriolic gesture without hesitation. Erzsébet pretended not to notice. By now, she had forgotten the exact reasons why her yearlong grudge was necessary, but continued to hold it out of sheer, bloody-minded stubbornness. If she had to go the rest of her life without acknowledging Gilbert Beilschmidt, then that was fine by her.

At that moment, Antonio the circus bullfighter entered the tent. He was panting slightly, his dark hair was tousled from running, and he seemed completely oblivious of the fact that his shirt was on the wrong way around. Nobody pointed any of this out. It had long been accepted that it was better to leave Antonio to his own special devices. As he sat down, Antonio winked at Belle, who smiled back winsomely. Erzsébet felt a smug glow of warmth inside. She still had her suspicions about these two and the so-called 'platonic' nature of their relationship.

The second certainty about circus meetings was that, when the Vargas brothers did finally decide to turn up, everyone would immediately know. Today, events followed in perfect accordance with tradition. Perhaps it was stress, perhaps it was something to do with being Italian, but none of the brothers had ever seemed to master the concept of an indoor voice. Within a few minutes, the three distinctive voices began resonating over the grounds:

"We aren't late, are we? We can't be late!"

"Damn right we're late. That Beilschmidt bastard is going to rip out our guts and mix them in with his potato salad."

"Ve~ Ludwig wouldn't do that. He's too nice to do that."

"Bullshit!"

"No Lovino, I really don't think he would. Potato salad is bound to get all yucky if you try to mix someone's guts in…"

"Anyway, it's your fault that we are late, Lovi."

"My fault? It's my fault now? Feliciano was the one messing around!"

"But you haven't explained why _you_ took so long."

"… and what if it's a recipe passed down from his grandmother or something? Ludwig would never put guts into a salad when his grandmother's recipe didn't tell him to!"

"IT WAS A METAPHOR, FELICIANO! And I told you already; a stupid grey squirrel snuck into our tent. I was just trying to get rid of it."

"Yeah, because that sounds _so_ believable, doesn't it?"

"Oooh, is it still there now? It would be nice to have a pet to cuddle when I'm feeling lonely."

"Just shut up, both of you."

At this point, the tent flap finally opened and the latecomers burst in. For three people who were so unalike in nature, it was remarkable just how similar the Vargas brothers looked. All of them had inherited Mediterranean genes, resulting in olive-skin, slender builds, and boyishly handsome looks. Feliciano rushed towards the table, wringing his hands. He was the middle brother in both age and height, and a good friend of Erzsébet's, although he did possess the unfortunate trait of overacting to every possible stimulus. "Waaah, I'm so sorry we're late, Ludwig!" he wailed, "We were looking for Lovino and we couldn't find him, and when we _did_ find him he wasn't ready to go, and then— "

Ludwig held up a weary hand to silence him. "It's… fine. I would appreciate more punctuality in future but you're here now."

"So you don't need to worry about that potato salad, Lovino," Antonio said, grinning at the eldest brother.

Lovino puffed out his cheeks furiously. It was usually possible to tell him apart from his brothers due to the fact that he wore a permanent expression of annoyance. "What gave you the right to listen in?" he demanded.

"Will you please just sit down?" Ludwig said, "We have a lot to get through in this meeting, and I would prefer if it didn't take any longer than absolutely necessary."

Feliciano and Sebastiano, the youngest brother, obeyed. Lovino glanced over the room for seating options before realising that the only available chair was next to Antonio. He took it with a sullen growl. Ludwig removed his reading glasses and cleared his throat. "Right. I now declare the six-hundred-and-eighth Fireball Circus meeting officially in progress. Lars van Rjin will be taking the minutes today, and I will—"

"Ve~ Ludwig, aren't you going to make the announcement?" Feliciano said, "You know, the _really_ importantone?"

Ludwig flushed a subtle pink. "Well… perhaps later, if we have time. But, er, first of all, does anyone have any matters they would like to bring to my attention."

Erzsébet nervously raised her hand.

"Yes?" Ludwig prompted.

"Um, it's about the LED lights around the stage," said Erzsébet, "I've tripped over them at least twice now, and I can't help but feel like they're a safety hazard. Shouldn't we have them removed before someone gets hurt?"

Ludwig clicked his tongue sympathetically. "Unfortunately Erzsébet, we also need them so that the audience can actually see what they've paid for. I'm afraid you'll just have to be more careful in future. Any further questions? Feliciano, put your hand down, I know what you're going to ask. I've already made it clear that eating pasta is banned in the Big Top. Anyone else? Very well." He turned to another page in his notes. "Okay, regarding tonight. Belle and Luca, are you still set to run the food-stall?"

Belle and her younger brother nodded. "Of course."

"Good. Now, to the schedule. Erzsébet, you'll be first in the running order tonight."

"Me?" croaked Erzsébet. Performing first was not a task she was accustomed to, and the thought alone made her tingle with nerves. "Are— are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Oh come on, Erzsi, it's going to be, like, the most badass opening ever if you're doing it," said Feliks, "As long as you don't, y'know, trip over the lights again."

Erzsébet shuffled. "Well, I _suppose_ so…"

"Excellent," Ludwig said, "Antonio, you will be following, and after that I have planned for a… new addition to perform."

Alfred set his cup down. "Sweet! We're getting new blood?"

"Yes. Gilbert and I happen to have a cousin of considerable musical talent who wishes to play the piano," Ludwig said, "He is currently running and errand in town. I expected him to have finished by now to be honest, but it would be our pleasure to introduce him to everyone when he does arrive."

At the word 'pleasure', Gilbert made a strangled sort of noise through his teeth. Erzsébet shot him a glance. His bronze eyes were like slits and his lip was curled as if he had just watched someone spitting into his favourite beer. Ludwig ignored him, and continued reading the schedule. Through some miracle, he managed to make it right down to the end without another interjection. Looking slightly surprised, Ludwig turned to a new page, and his expression grew stern.

"I am afraid that my next announcement is going to be a negative one," he said, "Over the past week, there have been two attempted break-ins to the storage caravan. These have not been the first incidents I have noticed, so I am no longer willing to let this pass. Whoever it is who has been committing these acts, and I do believe that it is most likely to be someone here, I demand that you stop, or I will be forced to call the police."

Around the table, everyone began to frown and mutter. The thought that there might be a thief among them was strange to contemplate.

"Why the storage caravan?" Antonio said at length, "Is anything even worth stealing in there?"

"This is exactly what confuses me. All we have there are files detailing past acts and performances. I can't understand why anyone would want them so badly."

Feliks laughed. "Yeah, they're, like, not exactly the crown jewels."

"Heh, I bet I know who it was," Gilbert said. He stroked his pet budgie, Gilbird absent-mindedly. "I bet it was journalists. They must be so desperate to write stories on all the awesome acts I used to do that they'd be willing to break in anywhere to get their hands on the details."

Ludwig glowered at him. "This isn't a laughing matter. If you, or anybody else is not willing to take this seriously, then—"

"I _am_ taking it seriously, bro! Some of the stuff we did was incredible; don't _you_ miss the good old days? Like the act we used to do when we dressed— "

"Gilbert, that is enough!"

The resulting pause was charged with intrigue. Alfred stirred and leant forwards eagerly. "Woah! Somethin' you're not telling us, Ludwig?" he asked.

Ludwig said nothing and kept his eyes fixated on a stain in the middle of the table. Gilbert opened his mouth excitedly, but Erzsébet was surprised to hear Feliks speaking first, "Ha, he's just being a total prude to the max! He can't admit that he used to be part of the most wicked boss cross-dressing trio ever seen. Along with me and Gil, of course."

The flush on Ludwig's cheeks deepened by several shades. "Now, I don't think anyone needed—"

"Wow, Ludwig did cross-dressing?" Feliciano said with a giggle, "I bet you looked good!"

"Like a potato in a dress more like it," Lovino muttered.

Feliks winked at Feliciano. "He looked gorgeous in his cute little maid's outfit, take it from me," he said, "Or, y'know, ask him to wear it again and then you'll see for yourself!"

Ludwig covered his face with both hands. "Oh for goodness sake! I was thirteen!"

"And totally adorable."

"Ah, The Three Bust-keteers." Gilbert said, gazing dreamily into the distance, "Not that it was the only awesome group. Remember that clown act I did? Man, it was a shame that got banned. And that time when— "

Thankfully, Gilbert's recollections were promptly interrupted by the trilling of a bell. Ludwig looked relieved. "Aha, that must be Roderich at last. I— I'll let him in," he said, standing up hastily.

"'The Three Bust-keteers'?" Erzsébet whispered to Feliks, "Why didn't you tell me that before? It sounds brilliant!"

"Erzsi, that was years ago now. But you're right, it _was_ brilliant," Feliks said, "Still, it was a pain in the ass working with Gilbert. You know what he's like."

Erzsébet rolled her eyes. "Damn right I do."

By the entrance, Ludwig was in the process of welcoming someone inside. Erzsébet caught the sound of a man's voice that she did not recognise.

"I realise that as far as the meeting is concerned, I have arrived exceedingly late," the voice said. It sounded as soft and as crisp as pastry. "I assure you that this was not my intention, so please allow me to apologise."

"Can't you bring a map in future?" Ludwig muttered, "Or _try_ to walk a bit faster?"

"These things are not always so easy when one is as out of shape as I am."

"Whatever. Just get in, will you?"

The newcomer entered the room, Ludwig zipping the flap behind him. For the first time, Erzsébet was able to see him.

Her breath caught. When she'd heard that the Beilschmidts' had a cousin, she'd imagined him to be built in the mould of Ludwig and Gilbert; all muscle and light hair and chiselled features. However, the man standing before her was nothing like this. The man standing before her was— there could be no other word for it— _bishoen._ His hair was the colour of chocolate and brushed into an elegant side parting that neither Ludwig nor Gilbert would be able to achieve. One rogue curl stuck out at the top, a jaunty and stylish trait. Although he was only a little shorter than Ludwig, his chest looked three times less sturdy, and his features ten times more delicate. Erzsébet felt her eyes drawn to the man as Ludwig led him to the head of the table. Every one of his steps was gentle, precise, and dignified. It was as if he had eschewed the typical Beilschmidt brawn, as if he had been touched with his own singular grace instead.

"Everyone, allow me to present Roderich Edelstein; a musician, and the newest member of our company," Ludwig said. He gestured lazily to his cousin, then over the table. "And Roderich, this is… everyone. You'll get to know each person individually in time."

"Yes, yes, charmed, I'm sure," said Roderich, giving a false bow. Erzsébet noticed that he didn't smile when he said it. Neither did his eyes connect with anyone else's in the room. She watched Roderich cautiously while he unbuttoned his overcoat and draped it over the back of a chair. Underneath, he was wearing a shirt with a fine purple waistcoat, as well as some sort of frilly cravat around his neck. Erzsébet heard him muttering as he took his seat, the words just about audible, _"Common circus lunatics."_

Luckily, not many people noticed Roderich's comment. Ludwig was busy organising his notes, while most of the company were sitting too far away to hear. Erzsébet, however, felt her insides prickle with rage. By now, she was used to people thinking of circuses as disreputable. She had seen embarrassed and pitying expressions from countless acquaintances when she told them what she did. But never before, not once in the six years of her trade, had she heard anyone being so brazenly rude _to her face._ Immediately, all her interest in Roderich Edelstein turned to fierce disgust.

"Right…" Ludwig pulled in his chair, clearing his throat again. "Where were we?"

"Ludwig, can we make the announcement now?" Feliciano said hopefully, "Can we pleease?"

Ludwig's eyes flashed with sudden panic. "Well, I… I'm not quite sure that now is a good— "

"Announcement?" Lovino said, looking suspiciously from his brother to Ludwig, "What's this about, _German?"_

"Well, you see… we— that is to say, Feliciano and I— have…" Ludwig fiddled with his pen, his voice wavering. "H—have decided to…"

But he was spared the rest of his admission. Feliciano hopped up, ran over, and took Ludwig's large hand into his own. For a moment, there was a stunned silence. Erzsébet's heart leapt with excitement. Then Feliciano spoke, saying the words she'd been waiting to hear for an eternity, "We're dating!"

Erzsébet wasn't entirely sure what happened next. There were several squeals of congratulations, someone shouting "No _way_ _!"_ , and Gilbert's triumphant "I knew it!" drowning out everyone else. Most of this, Erzsébet missed as she darted into her bag for her digital camera. Ludwig and Feliciano were still holding hands when she emerged. Erzsébet steadied her fingers and began to snap a few frantic photographs just as Feliciano moved his head towards Ludwig's. He kissed Ludwig straight on the lips, with a force that was enough to knock the breath from him. Belle's older brother Lars wolf-whistled, and Ludwig was so alarmed that he looked like he wouldn't have minded evaporating on the spot. Then, he began to kiss back. His lips moved gently, uncertainly, like a child touching something precious for the first time. Erzsébet hadn't clicked the camera button so furiously in her life.

Suddenly, a shout tore overhead, "STOP! STOP THAT NOW, DAMMIT!"

Ludwig and Feliciano broke apart in an instant. Lovino was standing up at the other end of the table. Both hands slammed onto the surface, and his face was painted like a compressed thunderstorm. It was clear from a single glance that this was a different anger to Lovino's usual grouchiness. This was an anger that transcended rage, and seemed to bring him to the very brink of explosion.

"Lovino, I promise I'd never—" Ludwig said quickly, but Lovino interrupted him.

"SHUT IT, BASTARD! If you ever, _ever_ smear your potato-sucking lips over my brother again, I'll mince you hard enough to be made into bratwurst, understand?" He strode over to Feliciano and put a gentle arm around his shoulder. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

"But I don't want to get— waaah!"

"Lovi, don't!" Sebastiano said, as Lovino began to pull his brother away, "You can see he's happy, isn't that all that matters?"

But Lovino merely pushed him aside and guided Feliciano out of the room. Almost the moment after they left, the argument resumed.

"What do you think you're doing, letting the jerk kiss you like that?"

"Ludwig's not a jerk! He's kind and strong and he never gets cross when I want to hug him or kiss him or sleep in his bed. I really like him, Lovi!"

"Fuck that! That's not the point. He's German for a start, which means he's a heartless dickhead. Besides, I thought you were into girls?"

"B—but it's fine! I called up Grandpa and he says there's nothing wrong with playing for both sides."

"Dammit, Feli!" Lovino's voice was more like a groan. "If you stay with him, he's going to break your heart and God knows what else. You know I'm only doing this because I care about you, right?"

"But if you r—really cared about me, you'd let m—me be with the man I'm in love— "

"Love? Don't talk to me about love. Just because someone likes sleeping with you, it doesn't mean anything about _love,"_ Lovino spat. His tone was surprisingly sympathetic. "Come on, let's go. And don't start crying, he really isn't worth it."

Gradually their voices faded away. Sebastiano gulped, his eyes flicking nervously from side to side. "Er, maybe I should go too. Make sure they're both okay and everything."

With that, he left the room. A very awkward strain followed. Nobody had any idea what to say, and instead focused on looking anywhere that wasn't Ludwig in a poor attempt to pretend nothing had happened. As Erzsébet waited in the thickening silence, a creeping suspicion began to form in her mind. Somebody was watching her. She glanced up warily. From across the table, Roderich Edelstein jerked his head to the side with the speed of lightning. Erzsébet stared at him though narrowed eyes, wondering why it was that he suddenly looked so guilty.

It came as a strange relief when Gilbert finally broke the silence, "Well, look on the bright side, bro," he said cheerfully, "At least you don't have to exchange Christmas presents with him now."

"The _bright side?"_ Ludwig turned to Gilbert in trembling disbelief. "How on earth is that supposed to be a _bright side?"_

"Oh come on, don't tell me you _enjoy_ buying crap for people you secretly hate."

"I am trying to start a serious relationship, Gilbert. How am I supposed to do that if I'm not even accepted by Feliciano's family?"

Roderich gave a delicate cough. "Ludwig, if I may…?"

Ludwig hesitated. He had the air of someone who suspected the worst, but did not know how to prevent it. "Go on," he said reluctantly.

"Thank you." Roderich clasped his hands together and drew himself up. When he spoke again, it was with the practiced authority of a lord, "As you know, one ought to behave with appropriate decorum at all times. Indecent displays of affection, such as that which we just had the misfortune of witnessing, are most certainly _not_ appropriate. Please refrain from these in future."

Gilbert snorted contemptuously. Ludwig on the other hand, did not respond, although his shaking hands testified to an even deeper level of shame than before. Erzsébet felt herself bristling on his behalf. _Indecent?_ What the hell did Roderich Edelstein know about relationships anyway? He was probably the sort of person who still believed in arranged marriage, for goodness sake. She thought briefly about slapping him, but opted instead for the dirtiest glare she could manage.

"You cannot really blame Lovino for being protective," Lars said, adjusting his scarf, "It's just what people do when they think something important is threatened."

Antonio nodded. "Yeah, and anyway, Lovino won't stay mad for long. He's actually a pretty nice guy when you get to know him."

Ludwig opened his mouth, probably to say that he seriously doubted that, then he closed it again and sighed. "Look, I appreciate everyone's support, but I would prefer if we left the matter alone now. Since I have nothing left to tell you, you are all dismissed."

And he disappeared into his sleeping quarters without another word.

...

In time, the rest of the troupe rose from the table and filtered out of the tent. Erzsébet made sure that the camera was safely stowed away before she stood up. Feliks waited until she was ready, an irritatingly knowing smirk on his face. "Happy now, Miss Matchmaker?"

"Of course! Those two always make me happy," Erzsébet said, "It is a shame about Lovino, though. I knew he didn't like Ludwig much, but I didn't think he felt _that_ strongly."

"Meh. Give him time, he'll come around. I mean, this is his brother— he can't just, like, randomly start hating him just 'cause he's got a boyfriend he disproves of," said Feliks.

Erzsébet bit her lip. "I suppose not… Anyway, what are you looking so smug about?"

"Oh, nothing. Nothing at all."

Aside from Erzsébet and Feliks, there was only one other person left in the room. Roderich Edelstein. It happened that the three of them arrived at the entrance at exactly the same moment. When Erzsébet reached for the tent flap, she did not notice Roderich doing the same thing. Their fingers clashed against the material. Erzsébet drew her hand away like she'd been burnt, but Roderich simply lifted the flap and looked pointedly in her direction. He was waiting for them to pass, Erzsébet realised. Something niggled in her stomach— something that was like annoyance, and then another feeling that was not like annoyance at all. He was waiting for them to pass; yet her feet seemed incapable of movement. Roderich stared back evenly through an old-fashioned pair of spectacles. "After you," he said, nodding towards the flap.

Painfully aware of the silence, Erzsébet decided to accept his gesture. She stepped through the entrance with a fleeting mutter of thanks. Feliks walked a couple of steps behind as they emerged from the tent. He waited until they had distanced themselves from the pianist before leaning in. "I know what you're thinking. Dreamiest guy you ever laid eyes on, right?"

" _What?"_ Erzsébet spluttered, "Feliks, you've got to be joking! I know he's not _bad_ looking, but—"

Feliks clicked his fingers. "I knew it! You were totally making eyes at him from the moment he stepped inside."

"I was not!" Erzsébet cried. Had it really looked like she was trying to flirt with _him?_ How ludicrous! How shojo-heroine-level pathetic! "Firstly, that's not the way I behave around the people I like, thank you very much, and secondly, did you hear what he said about the circus? What he said about _us?_ He's a stuck-up little scumbag!"

"Yeah, but he's still here, isn't he? _And_ he's damn fine," Feliks said. He glanced over his shoulder. "Looks like such a priss though, I'll give you that, with that fluffy cloth around his neck. I mean, they were fashionable once… in the 1700s!"

Erzsébet didn't find the joke particularly amusing, but joined in with Feliks' laughter enthusiastically. Purple waistcoats and fluffy cloths were antiquated enough to belong in a museum. In that case, they suited Roderich Edelstein. He probably belonged in a museum too.

Feliks pursed his lips in consideration. "Hey, I could totally set you two up. It'd be like a Harlequin novel, or one of those doujinshi things you keep reading. You know," He switched his voice to an affected drawl. _"An unlikely romance, formed against the backdrop of gaping class divides…"_

Erzsébet gave him a good shove, "Honestly, stop being such an idiot. You know he wouldn't look twice at me, even if I wanted him to."

"What? You keep pairing couples up, can't I, like, have a go too?" said Feliks, "You're always telling me how much fun it is."

"Yes, but not with _me._ "

"Why not? This Roderich guy is sexy and available, and you probably have the hots for him, so—"

"Feliks," Erzsébet said, putting on her best this-conversation-is-over voice, "This conversation is over."

But if anything, that only made Feliks' stupid grin widen. "Hey, you know what I'm thinking?"

"I read fortunes, Feliks, not minds."

"Yeah? Well I think you don't want to admit that the matchmaker might have met her match."

Erzsébet tried to formulate some kind of witty comeback, but it was impossible. She was already blushing so hard that she couldn't think properly any more.

* * *

 _Lars: Netherlands  
Luca: Luxembourg  
Sebastiano: Seborga_


	3. Chapter 3

The brightness of the morning transformed into a moody and overcast afternoon. Pearly-grey clouds gathered in the sky, trembling with the threat of rain. But Erzsébet did not allow the weather to dampen her spirits. After all, there were other visitors to entertain. Most of them were children – expect for one demure Swiss teenager— so she spent the afternoon mesmerising them with the most exciting tales of fate and fortune she could manage.

When she finally tired of predictions, Erzsébet closed her tent and hurried off to prepare for the performance. The field in which they were stationed was larger than what they were used too. A handful of tents were scattered irregularly over the grass, all looking somewhat forlorn. Right in the centre, the Big Top dwarfed them all. Erzsébet couldn't resist taking a moment to admire the spectacle. The tent looked spectacular in the evening glow; like a vast, flame-coloured meringue. A flagpole was connected to the peak, bearing the many national flags of their performers: Hungarian, Polish, Spanish, Italian, Dutch, American, and German right at the top. A high arch marked out the visitors' entrance, and a sign for 'THE FIREBALL CIRCUS' was printed overhead in bold, multicoloured letters.

Outside the Big Top, Belle and Alfred were busy setting up two kiosks. Erzsébet wandered over to help. Since Lars performed in the circus, the remaining van Rjin siblings were the vendors of the troupe. Erzsébet was often astounded by the variety of their wares. They sold programmes, toys with flashing lights, Belle's homemade waffles, last minute tickets, and even potted plants that Lars grew in his greenhouse.

The food kiosk was almost completely assembled, so Erzsébet climbed inside and began stacking the shelves. Belle leaned across the counter, tucking a blonde curl underneath her headband. "Thanks for this. It's too difficult to set everything up on my own," she said.

Erzsébet grinned as she unloaded a box of ingredients. "You could always ask Antonio in future. I'm sure he'd jump at the chance to help you." Her pointed tone was not lost on Belle, who sighed in exasperation.

"Not this _again,"_ she said, "Look, I don't know how many times I need to tell you this, but Antonio and I are just friends. He's not even my type."

"Hey Belle!" Alfred grimaced as he lugged a huge wooden crate across the grass. "Where's this one go?"

"Just through the door, please!" Belle said. Alfred staggered over to the back of the kiosk. Even with his sculpted upper body, he looked like he was struggling. He dumped the crate inside and straightened, running a hand through his dirty-blond hair.

"Gee, that's heavy. What'cha got in there anyways?"

Belle shrugged. "Nothing really."

Alfred's eyes narrowed through his glasses. "Now that sounds _hella_ suspicious. You hidin' some kinda dark secret?"

Erzsébet sniggered as she piled bags of flour onto the shelves. Alfred did take his self-proclaimed job as a hero so seriously sometimes… "Yeah, it's probably full of illegal waffle ingredients."

"Honestly, you're both being ridiculous," Belle said, "When I said 'nothing', I meant nothing important; just some of Lars' flowerpots and stuff."

Erzsébet continued stocking the kiosk as Alfred and Belle scribbled prices on a chalkboard. She had almost completed a second row of shelves when a thought occurred her. "Where are your brothers?" she asked Belle, "They sometimes help out, don't they?"

"Oh, Lars is tending to the greenhouse, as usual," Belle said, twirling a piece of chalk between her fingers, "But Luca… he's occupied."

Erzsébet raised her eyebrows. She was glad not to have to see Lars again today. The eldest of the van Rjins was so taciturn that Erzsébet was often unsure about whether or not she liked him. It was, however, unusual for Luca to be busy, given that he was only sixteen. "'Occupied'? What do you mean 'occupied'?"

Belle tilted her thumb towards the Big Top. Erzsébet squinted. The youngest van Rjin sibling sat on the grass outside the entrance, but he wasn't alone. A girl about his own age knelt beside him, engrossed in conversation. There was something strangely familiar about her, but the only detail that really caught Erzsébet's attention was that she appeared to be kneeling on one of Luca's coats.

"I didn't know your brother had a girlfriend," she said.

"She ain't his girlfriend," Alfred said, "She just came by here a while ago askin' about ticket prices."

Erzsébet giggled. "And naturally, Luca fell for her charms and has gone about trying to win her heart?"

"You really are incorrigible, aren't you?" Belle said, giving her a withering look, "Luca is _explaining_ it to her, that's all."

 _Explaining._ As much as Erzsébet knew that Belle was probably right, Luca certainly seemed to be taking a long time if that was all he was doing. Erzsébet watched them talking together as she transferred slabs of chocolate to the shelves. Luca smiled and spoke rapidly, while the girl looked very flustered indeed. Erzsébet couldn't tell whether she was blushing, but noticed that she kept toying nervously with a ribbon in her hair.

"Hold on," Erzsébet said, remembering, "I think I know that girl. I read her fortune about an hour ago."

"Oooh! What did you tell her?" Alfred asked.

"Trade secret," Erzsébet said with a wink.

Alfred dropped his piece of chalk in horror. "Not you as well! Are all you folks in an evil conspiracy or somethin'?"

"Oh fine! I read her tea leaves and they suggested approaching disappointment for someone in her family. Happy now?"

" _Woah,"_ Alfred said, "Did they say what sorta disappointment? And when it's gonna happen?"

"Um, that's not really how—"

"Oh! And which member of her family is it gonna be?"

Belle spoke suddenly, pointing across the field. "Maybe that one?"

Erzsébet followed Belle's gesture. A third visitor had now arrived on the scene— a man with chin length blond hair and a white beret. He strode over to the Big Top, grabbed the girl's hand, and began talking to Luca in what seemed like a brusque manner.

"Looks like the lovebirds have got company," Erzsébet said.

"It's probably her brother," said Belle, "They look quite alike, don't they?"

Alfred stared at them, then let out a bark of laughter. "Well whaddya know! That guy came by my shootin' range earlier on."

Erzsébet plugged a waffle iron into the socket. "Small world."

"Dude was fuckin' creepy, though. He won a goldfish with his first shot the tried again straight after for another one. He said that animals 'deserved to have friends' or somethin' like that. Afterwards he even asked me for a discount 'cause he thought the shots were too easy. Weird, huh?"

"Yeah… definitely." Erzsébet watched the man walk away with his sister. In one hand he grasped her fingers, and in the other he clutched two identical goldfish bags. His sister turned back and waved Luca a reluctant goodbye over her shoulder. Luca waited for her to disappear before walking over to the kiosks.

"So, who was she?" Erzsébet asked as soon as he arrived.

"Just a visitor— she said her name was Lilli Zwingli," Luca said. He was mildly flushed after the encounter and seemed more than a little pleased with himself. "She was waiting for her brother, so I thought perhaps I should keep her company in the meantime."

Alfred gave him a thumbs-up. "Good job! Being a total gentleman is a great way to score with the chicks."

Luca said nothing, but flicked his golden fringe over to one side of his head. It was a habit of his that Erzsébet had noticed before. Luca's hair was an infamous point of contention in the circus, yet no attempts to persuade him to cut it seemed to have any effect.

"What did her brother say?" Belle asked.

"Oh, you know. Making sure I wasn't doing anything inappropriate." Luca smoothed the front of his waistcoat. "He seemed to think I was trying to flirt with her."

Erzsébet could not resist a playful grin. "It did look like you were, sweetie."

"What?" Luca said, scandalised, "Of course I wasn't!"

Alfred winked at him. "Just watch out for yourself, 'kay kiddo? That brother is a freakin' good shot."

...

That night, it was a full house inside the Big Top. Row upon row of seats wreathed the stage, packed with a jabbering mass of circus-goers. Hot floodlights burned down on the centre; white stars were superimposed on the tent walls; speakers blared joyful music over the room. The audience settled down for Ludwig's introduction, and then it was time for Erzsébet to take to the stage. She shuffled on to hearty applause, her crystal ball awaiting her on a table. High above, the ceiling twinkled in orange and yellow and black.

A hush followed as Erzsébet warmed her orb. At once, a hundred different auras flickered into view. There were calm blues and passionate reds, curious greens and blithe yellows— all swarming together and buzzing with collective excitement. Erzsébet picked out those that intrigued her most. She asked individual audience members to stand, spotlights training on them, and used the depth and hue of their auras to reveal facts about their personality, and the obstacles they could expect to face in the future. It was difficult task with such a high density of people, but Erzsébet could feel the crowd growing roused as she scored hit after hit. The blessing of her ancestors must be on her side tonight.

When Erzsébet finally concluded her act, the audience gave her a standing ovation. It was all so intense that, as she was leaving, Erzsébet failed to notice an LED light at the edge of the stage. Her foot caught and she tripped, almost falling over. Humiliated, she stumbled blindly through the exit. Feliks was waiting for her backstage, and pulled into a crushing hug.

"Erzsi, that was amazing! I was watching it all and you totally had me convinced."

"Thanks." Erzsébet wiped her clammy forehead on the back of the hand. The heat of the floodlights overhead had felt like fire. "Did you see me trip over that damn light, though? I _told_ Ludwig that was going to happen!"

"Pffff, like anyone cares," Feliks said, tossing his hair, "You did fabulously, and everyone knows it!"

Presently, Ludwig's announcement for the next act boomed through the tent. Antonio marched forward, flourishing his red cape. Pancho the bull trailed a couple of steps behind, led along by Antonio with a leash around its neck.

"Good luck," Erzsébet said, and Antonio grinned.

Feliks waited until they had disappeared then reduced his voice to a whisper, "Hey, has anyone managed to guess yet? Do they know how you do your performance?"

"How I _do_ it?" Erzsébet said, "Feliks, it's not a magic trick. Most of it's just using my initiative, relying on my ancestors' guidance."

"Yeah, _some_ of it but not all. You use a load of psychology and junk too. I dunno why nobody else can see it."

Erzsébet shrugged. "Maybe they can't, maybe theycan. Who knows?"

"It's amazing, right?" said Feliks, "People are so willing to let themselves be tricked."

"Huh," A soft voice caught their attention. Alfred was leaning against the construction poles that kept the back arch upright, already dressed in his customary cowboy outfit. "What are you two talking about?"

"Nothing! Feliks is just being an idiot," said Erzsébet, "You're prepared already?"

Alfred twisted a piece of hair around his fingers. "Well sure, but I'm kinda nervous. I mean, these guns have a lotta power."

"But you've used them loads of times before," said Erzsébet, "You'll be fine."

Alfred's brow was still creased with uncertainty. "That doesn't mean it's impossible to accidently shoot someone…"

"Hey, if you're worried about killing a volunteer, just ask Erzsébet to read their palm!" Feliks said, "She does a totally accurate prediction of how long they've got until they snuff it."

Erzsébet resisted giving him a shove. "Right, I'm going to get changed. Will you need any help with your make-up Feliks?"

Feliks flicked her nose affectionately. "Nah, only I can achieve true fabulousness. I'll catch you later!"

"Yep, see you. And good luck!" Erzsébet waved Feliks goodbye and made her way through the rear exit. If she changed quickly enough, she'd be able to sneak into the audience afterwards to watch the rest of the performances.

Behind the Big Top, there was a large, portable hut that contained dressing rooms. Erzsébet had almost reached it when she heard a door banging inside. Two pairs of footsteps followed, accompanied by a loud, slightly rasping voice:

"Seriously, I don't know why you even left Vienna."

"Just because _you_ don't want me here, Gilbert, that doesn't criminalise my decisions."

Erzsébet's stomach turned as she recognised the voices. Quickly, she hid around the side of the hut, peering around the corner to watch. The door to the hut shuddered open, and two men descended the metal steps.

"No, I mean it," Gilbert continued, "If your piano training was going so well, why did you cut it short? Isn't the circus a bit of a come down, _young master_?"

Roderich glared at his cousin. He was dressed impeccably for the occasion, in a black tailcoat and a bow tie, his hair slicked back and his cuffs pristinely white. He looked more like he was on his way to the opera than about to perform in front of a crowd of circus-goers. "My training in Vienna is none of your concern," he said, "If I decide that a change of scenery is in order, I do not expect anyone to question it. Especially not you."

Gilbert snorted with mocking laughter. "Shit, you're just the, _kof,_ just the same as ever aren't you, Specs? Still the same, _kof kof,_ puffed-up little pansy as— _ahh…"_ He stopped walking and buried another cough into his elbow. "Crap, gimme a moment." Gilbert whipped an inhaler out of his pocket and took a draught. He stuffed it back afterwards, his breathing having returned to normal. "Yeah, as I was saying, you're as lame as ever. You haven't even changed a _hair_."

Sensing something, Roderich ducked, but Gilbert got there first. He reached out and grabbed Roderich's protruding curl, laughing while Roderich squirmed beside him.

"Stop it Gilbert!"

"Hahaha! Bet it hurts, doesn't it?"

"Do not take your— _ahh —_ your sadistic tendencies out on me! Let go!"

Erzsébet watched the scene unfold from her hiding place. She found herself in a curious state of indecision— torn between fury at Gilbert's obnoxious behaviour and a morbid fascination to keep watching. Roderich's cheeks had reddened, his eyes had hardened, and the grimace that he wore was stern, intense… and surprisingly masculine. Erzsébet bit her lip, both annoyed with herself and regretful that she hadn't brought her camera. Then, making a decision, she stepped out.

"Everything alright here?" she asked with a pleasant smile.

Gilbert let go of Roderich immediately, his expression darkening. "Oh. You got yourself a guardian angel now, Specs?"

"Everything is _quite_ alright, thank you." Roderich said, flattening his hair, "Now, if you'll both excuse me, I have a performance to attend to."

And he strode off without another word. As he walked, his tails swished comically from side to side. Erzsébet caught Gilbert's eye and for a second, there was a flash of laughter within them; a flash of the old, impish Gilbert she had once been in love with. A moment later it had vanished. Neither of them said anything more to the other, and each went their respective ways.

...

Erzsébet changed at top speed, then snuck back through the exit of the Big Top. There was a ladder next to the construction poles, leading to a watchtower that overlooked the stage from behind. Its main use was for acoustics control, but since that rarely needed adjusting, it was usually empty. Sure enough, the small room was unoccupied when Erzsébet entered. She settled down on one of the seats to watch the pinnacle of Antonio's act: _El Bailarin_. His bullfighting was always a crowd pleaser, provoking screams and gasps. Little did anyone know that neither Antonio nor his bull were in any real danger. He had Pancho well trained.

Erzsébet arrived in time to see Antonio pretending to thrust his axe into Pancho's 'dead' body, shouting "Olé!" at the top of his voice. Applause shook through the audience, and Antonio stood to give his bow.

After a minute, Ludwig reappeared in his crisp ringmaster's suit. He spoke into a microphone, making the audience fall silent. "I am delighted to announce that we have a treat in store for you next. The newest member of our company is an acclaimed musical virtuoso, and we're lucky enough to have him performing," He raised his arm. "Please give a warm welcome to… Mr Roderich Edelstein!"

Erzsébet clapped politely along with the crowd, noticing that a grand piano had been moved to the stage. Roderich appeared through the arch, his posture erect and his expression composed. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," he said, "First of all, I shall play for you Chopin's nocturne in e-flat major. Opus nine, number two."

He sat at the piano bench, pushing back his cuffs and flexing his fingers. Erzsébet watched him, and a wave of frustration rose inside. God must have really screwed up when he made Roderich Edelstein, because it wasn't fair for a conceited prig to be so appealing to look at. It wasn't fair in the slightest.

But when Roderich played, Erzsébet stopping thinking about God's injustices. In fact, she stopped _thinking_ altogether. As soon as the delicate notes began rippling through the tent, it was impossible to focus on anything else. She had heard classical music before of course, but never like this. Roderich's fingers swept over the keys and his body danced with the melody, melting into it seamlessly until movement and noise became one. Involuntary tingles shot down Erzsébet's spine. It seemed unbelievable that Roderich's slender frame and gentle movements could draw out such a passionate sound. Unbelievable… and yet strangely thrilling at the same time. Erzsébet could only watch, struck and stunned and questioning her every assumption about this man. Was Roderich Edelstein really just a pale imitation of an aristocrat? How could that be so, when he had such intensity hidden beneath the surface?

In time, the piece drew to a close, breaking Erzsébet's trance. The applause which followed was hesitant, confused even. Erzsébet could understand why. Roderich's music was the most enchanting she had ever heard, but the formality made it seem inappropriate for a circus act. However, Roderich had not yet finished his performance.

"As you see, that was fairly simple at my level," he said, "But what if we were to make this somewhat more difficult? What if I were, for example, unable to see the keys?" Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a long sash. "May I ask for someone to ensure that this is fastened over my eyes?"

Once Roderich had chosen a volunteer and his eyes were covered, he played again. _Ave Maria_. Schubert. It was less complicated than the Chopin, but the skill he put into the performance remained the same as when he was sighted. Erzsébet held her breath and listened, still mesmerised. The sound was intricate, rich and fragile, and she could feel the air itself thrumming with emotion. Erzsébet could almost believe that it was not music, but magic coming to life beneath Roderich's fingertips.

After the Schubert, Roderich played a variety of other creative pieces; Ravel's _La Valse_ with one hand tied behind his back, another Chopin while sitting back to front, even _Clair de Lune_ lying on the piano bench— his arms lifted and crossing over to caress the notes. Every time, his performance reached a quality that could only be described as flawless. Every time, Erzsébet found herself captivated beyond her control.

When the display finally came to an end, the audience clapped and cheered, most rising to their feet. Only when Roderich left the stage could Erzsébet snap into focus, suddenly conscious of her racing pulse and the moist, tense excitement tingling over her skin. She shrank into her seat, unable to make sense of such an unfamiliar confusion. Was it natural for music to have such a profound effect?

Thankfully, she didn't have to contemplate it for much longer. Next in the line-up was Gilbert, or— as he preferred to go by— Daredevil Awesome. He took to the stage revving the engine of his stunt bike, wearing leather biker gear and the cockiest smile imaginable. Normally, Erzsébet had no interest in watching his gaudy routine, but it came as a welcome distraction today. She blended in with the audience as they "oooohed" and "aaaahed" at his stunts. Within a few minutes, she had almost forgotten Roderich's performance.

It was just as Gilbert was approaching his finale that Erzsébet sensed movement behind her. She turned around, and her brain froze. _No_. She had to be dreaming.

"Excuse me, miss, are these seats available?"

 _Roderich_. The consummate-pianist, haughty young master Roderich Edelstein. Wanting to sit in the box next to her. A lightheaded panic gripped Erzsébet's mind, and she found herself fumbling over her words. "No! I—I mean yes, I— um…" Erzsébet blushed fiercely. "Of course you can sit here if you like."

"Ah, excellent." Roderich made a display of brushing off a seat with a lacy handkerchief before sitting down. He had changed since his performance; now wearing a stylish three-piece suit and a tie patterned with music notes. A minute passed in silence, and Erzsébet cringed inwardly. She needed break the ice between them. Why was it so difficult to think of anything to say?

However, she was spared the embarrassment of small talk as Roderich spoke first: "I just wished to say, thank you kindly for rescuing me earlier," he said, "And I apologise for you having to see that. Gilbert has some rather… abnormal ways of showing affection."

"Oh I know," Erzsébet said, "I dated him for a year."

" _Did_ you? I do apologise; had no idea."

"Yeah. But it's fine."

"No, I am sorry. I did not wish to bring back any painful memories." Roderich said. Just below his bottom lip, a tiny beauty spot bobbed up and down when he spoke. Erzsébet was annoyed to discover that she found it immensely distracting.

"Honestly, it's fine," she said, "We broke up ages ago."

"I'm glad to hear that, then. I would not have wished to upset you." Roderich held out a hand. "And— er, I don't think we've been formally introduced as of yet?"

For the sake of politeness, Erzsébet took the offered hand. "Héderváry Erzsébet. I'm the fortune teller here."

She'd been expecting a handshake. Instead, Roderich lifted her hand and pressed a pair of soft lips to her knuckles. Erzsébet's eyes widened, her skin burning where he'd kissed it. Too quickly, she snatched her hand away.

" _Hmph_." Roderich lip curled and he gave a curt nod. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Erzsébet stared back warily. Someone might have mistaken those upturned lips for a smile, but she knew better. There was something forced about the gesture, something sneering. Erzsébet's ears rang with indignation, although she knew she had no right to feel angry, or even surprised. It was obvious that Roderich felt nothing but resentment towards people like her.

Just then, Ludwig reappeared on stage: "Brace yourselves now for the most dangerous display you could possibly witness! Our spectacular human cannonball is here," he cried, "Put your hands together for the one-and-only Flying Dutchman!"

The sole spotlight that trained on Ludwig expanded to illuminate the stage. An enormous orange cannon had been wheeled on, and a crash-suit clad performer sat on top of the barrel. He pumped his fist in the air before lowering himself inside.

Roderich dropped his head to Erzsébet's ear level. "Isn't that Lars van Rijn? I thought he was a gardener."

It was beyond irritating that Roderich still had the gall to talk to her, but if he could keep up this polite façade, so could she. "He _is_ a gardener," she told him, "His brother Luca sells the flowers he grows in a stall outside. But Lars is a stuntman too."

A countdown started from the overhead speaker, and the audience joined in enthusiastically. When they reached zero, there was a deafening boom and a puff of smoke. Lars shot out of the barrel and over the audience; barely a blur. He landed in a safety net on the opposite side of the tent and stood up to take his bow. The applause was uproarious.

"Good Lord," Roderich said, gazing up at him. "And he'll be quite alright after that?"

"I don't think he's been injured in his life."

"Really? I noticed earlier that he appeared to have a _very_ distinct scar." He traced a finger over his own left eye. "Just about here. Is that not so?"

"Yeah. It is…" Erzsébet frowned. She was so used to seeing Lars with his scar that she hadn't even considered where it might come from.

Back on stage, a few of the other performers had come on to wheel the cannon away. The safety net lowered, allowing Lars to step safely onto the ground.

"I'm assuming they do not use actual gunpowder when it comes to the firing?" Roderich asked.

"Of course not. That would rip him to shreds," Erzsébet said, "There's a spring inside the cannon, and the smoke is used for effect."

"That explains it."

"But we even have to be careful with that. The smoke can set off Gilbert's allergy attacks sometimes."

"Naturally."

There was a long delay after Lars' props had been cleared, and Erzsébet could sense the audience growing restless. Towards the back, a man with choppy blond hair stood up, attempting to push through to the end of his row. Erzsébet realised with a jolt that it was the same one who had confronted Luca earlier on. His sister Lilli was sitting beside him, and tugged at his shirt, but he pushed her away. A moment later he strode off and disappeared through the entrance. Erzsébet scowled. Didn't he have the patience to wait?

She pulled out her phone to check the time; it had just gone 9:30. A few minutes later, Ludwig finally returned to announce a change in the timetable. The Vargas Tumbler Trio were going to have their performance rescheduled due to the disappearance of one of their members.

"Vargas, Vargas…" Roderich said, drumming his fingers on his crossed legs, "That's the name of Ludwig's young man, is it not?"

"It's Feliciano's surname, yes," said Erzsébet, "And he's got two brothers: Lovino and Sebastiano."

"Well, this appalling punctuality from one of them. I suppose that's to be expected from Italians."

Since they were waiting for the acrobats, Ludwig announced that the Shootin' Desert Dude would perform in the meantime. Alfred appeared on the stage, carrying a case under his arm. Erzsébet knew that it contained firearms, ammunition, and targets for his act. Kneeling in the middle of the stage, he opened his case and displayed a gun to the crowd.

"Gonna start with my pellet gun," he said, turning it over in his hands so that they could see it wasn't fake, "Not a classic wild-west weapon, although—"

 _BANG!_

A short, powerful blast tore through the air. Several people screamed; many more jumped out of their skin. The noise had sounded distant, but still loud enough to resonate throughout the tent. For a moment, Erzsébet thought that one of Alfred's guns might have gone off by accident, but he looked just as startled as everybody else.

"What in the world was that?" Roderich asked.

He wasn't the only one wondering. All over the audience, people were muttering to each other and exchanging panicked glances. Erzsébet clenched her hands together to prevent them from shaking. "One of the LED lights must have blown. They are extremely faulty," she said.

Palpable relief washed over Roderich's face. "Ah, good! Not about the lights, of course, it's just… honestly, that sounded more like an explosion."

On stage, Alfred got to his feet shakily. "Heh, hopefully my guns won't be as loud as that, eh? 'Kay dudes and dudettes, show's about to begin. I need a pretty brave volunteer!"

He picked a young man, and tied him to a post at one end of the stage. A large board printed with targets stood behind. Alfred positioned himself as far away as possible take his shots. They started out easy, and gradually became more difficult; shooting from side-on, under his leg, when his back was turned. Every time, the pellets blasted the targets, a whisker away from the man's body. Erzsébet found herself on the edge of her seat. These might not be real bullets, but they still had the potential to seriously harm someone.

Presently, she was distracted by tinkling music notes beside her. She turned to Roderich, who was fumbling in his pocket. "You've got a Chopin ringtone?"

"I have indeed," Roderich said, fishing out an old flip phone, "Although I don't have any idea who's trying to contact me _now_." He peered at the screen through his silver-rimmed spectacles. His brow furrowed.

"I do not mean to be discourteous," he said, slipping the phone away, "But something rather… consequential appears to have arisen. Will you excuse me?"

"Go ahead."

Roderich rose and bowed his head graciously in farewell. Erzsébet watched him exit the watchtower, a peculiar, regretful flutter in her stomach. Yes, Roderich was an insufferable snob. Yes, he evidently thought he was above her. But he was also fascinating and dignified, and it surprised Erzsébet to realise that she had actually enjoyed her time with him.

Back on stage, Alfred's performance continued. He concluded the target shooting at length, then instructed his volunteer to hold a chunk of wood to his chest. Alfred let someone blindfold him, and stood a short distance away. The audience fell silent, entranced by the promise of danger. Erzsébet felt a sudden thrill of foreboding.

"This is gonna be darn tricky," Alfred said, clicking the gun's safety and taking aim, "Just one bullet, and I've got to make it count!"

Then he fired. The moment was over so quickly that there wasn't even time to focus on the pellet before it hammered the wood. Almost the entire audience leapt to their feet to clap and cheer.

Alfred tore off his blindfold. "Would'ja just look at that? A true cowboy never misses his target!"

Once the crowd had died down, Alfred untied the man and let him return to his seat. He opened his case again, starting to rummage inside. "Gonna try somethin' even harder now. You'll have to prepare yourself for this one."

Erzsébet knew what was coming. The Big Top had been set up so that targets would fall from above, and it was Alfred's job to shoot them before they hit the ground. For that, he used a textbook wild-west style revolver and wore ear protectors to muffle the noise.

Yet Alfred did not retrieve his gun. Instead, he scrabbled deeper in the case. After a while, he drew back and scratched his chin in bewilderment. "Huh? Well, that's kinda weird… Could y'all excuse me for a sec? I think I might have left my gun somewhere."

"Wait!"

At that moment, Ludwig rushed onto the stage. He was no longer wearing his top hat, and his face looked abnormally pale. His voice trembled as he spoke into the microphone. "I am afraid to announce that the rest of tonight's performance has been cancelled."

Apprehension rolled in Erzsébet's gut. The audience, meanwhile, erupted into groans. Protests and shouts rang from all angles, including from Alfred on the stage. "What? C'mon, we haven't even finished my act yet!"

Ludwig ignored him. "We no longer believe it is safe for any guests to remain. Please leave in an orderly fashion and allow yourselves to be escorted from the premises by our vendors. They will give you details on any compensation. Thank you."

One by one, people started to rise from their seats. Some made their way down the aisles, not troubling to lower their voices as they muttered insults. Others remained where they were and gaped at Ludwig, as if expecting him to announce that this was all a joke. Erzsébet left the watchtower and climbed down the ladder. Her heart was somersaulting. They'd had a few disasters with planning in the past, but never before had a performance been _cancelled_.

She hurried onto the stage as quickly as she could. Alfred was still attempting to argue with Ludwig, but the Ringmaster had such a glazed expression that Erzsébet doubted he was listening. As soon as he caught sight of her, however, Ludwig strode over. "Erzsébet! Where the hell have you been?"

"Watching from the tower. What happened?"

"It's something… something…" Ludwig tore at his hair with both hands. "Something extremely serious. I don't know how this happened, but…" He trailed off again.

Erzsébet's dread was deepening by the second. She had never seen Ludwig lose control like this before, and it was intensely frightening. "What exactly do you—?"

Ludwig interrupted her, "Alfred, would you mind helping with crowd control? Luca and Belle could probably do with some assistance."

"Sure thing!" Alfred leapt off the stage and ran towards the entrance. Erzsébet made to go with him, but Ludwig caught her wrist.

"No, Erzsébet. I think you ought to come with me."

Erzsébet followed him through the exit and towards the changing hut. There were a thousand questions burning in her mind but she didn't dare to ask any of them. Partly because Ludwig looked like he could break down at the slightest provocation. Partly because she was terrified of what the answers might be.

Ludwig trudged slowly, in a zombie-like daze. As they reached the hut, he held the door open to let her pass. "This is going to come as a very big shock to you," he said. His voice was surprisingly gentle and it made Erzsébet's stomach turn.

" _What is it?"_

Ludwig shook his head and stepped in after her. There was a single corridor inside the hut, framed by three dressing rooms. A small contingent of performers had gathered outside the third. Sebastiano was there, looking lost and distant. Antonio was crossing himself incessantly while he muttered in Spanish. Feliciano knelt on the floor, tears cascading down his cheeks. The sight made Erzsébet's limbs weaken, and she jumped as a shout burst through the air.

"THIS IS YOUR FAULT!"

For the second time that day, Gilbert had Roderich cornered. He slammed his cousin against the wall, shouting into his face. "You did this! I know you did!"

"Listen, Iassure you, I— "

"Don't try to deny it!" Gilbert's voice was horse with emotion. "You're going to get arrested for this! How could you— how _could_ you—?"

"Gilbert, that's enough. The police are on their way," Ludwig said quietly.

Gilbert's body trembled, although Erzsébet could not tell whether he was angry or simply afraid. Then, he let go of Roderich's shirt and slunk back like a naughty child. "I… I just can't believe… I can't believe…"

Ludwig pushed past him and up to the dressing room door. One glance at the My Little Pony door hanger told Erzsébet who had last occupied it.

"Was Feliks here?"

Ludwig nodded but did not quite meet her eye. "I think you'd better go inside."

Erzsébet went inside.

Immediately, she was forced to draw back as a nauseating smell assaulted her senses. Blood greeted her in such abundance that it felt like her vision had gone scarlet. There was blood splattered over one of the walls, blood soaking the dressing table, blood trickling down the mirror as slowly as snakes. On the mirror's surface, something even seemed to have been _written_ in blood; two red letters smudged on the background. _I-N_. Before Erzsébet could ponder this, a second discovery caught her attention. The main act. Her heart plummeted about a hundred feet.

Feliks' body was slumped over the dressing table; a gunshot wound piercing the back of his head. _No…_ A savage pressure rose in Erzsébet's chest. _No…_ this was impossible. Stupefied by horror, she stared at the corpse— the remains of the best friend she'd last seen an hour ago. She wanted to scream but her voice had melted into oblivion. She wanted to cry but the tears wouldn't come. She wanted to run, evaporate, implode on the spot, be anywhere, _anywhere_ apart from here.

Instead, she kept staring and staring until her eyes begged for relief.

* * *

 _To be continued next week_

* * *

 _Feel free to make guesses about what happened in the comments. I'd be really interested to know what everyone thinks at this stage. I can't promise that I'll confirm or deny anything, however :P_

 _._

 _Also, Roderich's piano performances are as follows:_

 _Chopin- Nocturne op.9 No.2:_ watch?v=9E6b3swbnWg  
 _Schubert- Ave Maria:_ watch?v=Ypn87SgWieY  
 _Ravel- La Valse:_ watch?v=hkVrhll9VBA _(although Roderich is playing a shorter version)  
Chopin- Nocturne op.15 No.1 in F major: _ watch?v=E6Dz5YeJDZA  
 _Debussy- Clair de Lune:_ watch?v=CvFH_6DNRCY


	4. Chapter 4

_In Hell, the police are German._

Erzsébet sat outside the _Kriminalpolizei_ office, unable to stop the thought circulating around her mind. She could barely imagine an environment as tense as than this one. The waiting room was a long, narrow hallway lined with chairs, reminiscent of prison corridors. A fan whirred monotonously in the background, but it was the only sound she could hear. As the silence grew stifling, Erzsébet felt like she was waiting for divine judgement rather than to give murder evidence at a police station.

Only two seats besides her own were occupied. A bespectacled policewoman who had introduced herself as 'Officer Oxenstierna' sat opposite, while a genuine puffin perched on the next chair along. Erzsébet tried not to look at it. She wasn't sure if it was just her imagination, but there was definitely something unsettling about those beady eyes. If possible, the police officer seemed even more intimidating. Her face was stern and unsmiling; her eyes were as blue as spears of ice. The stiff green uniform of the Bavarian _Schutzpolizei_ suited her so well that she could have been born wearing it. Erzsébet was secretly relieved that she wouldn't be the one to conduct her interview. That said, there was still no guarantee that another officer would believe her.

Erzsébet took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Why _was_ she going to all this trouble to vouch for Roderich's innocence? It certainly wasn't concern for his wellbeing that had brought her here. But even as she pondered this, the answer blared in her mind: _Because you know he's innocent._ Without her word, Roderich could be falsely accused of the crime. And if there was one thing Erzsébet couldn't bear, it was the idea of Feliks' true killer walking free.

The police officer checked her watch before glancing at Erzsébet in a way that felt more like a glare. "Detective will see y' now."

Erzsébet nodded and stood up. The door of the _Kriminalpolizei_ office was made of grey metal that hurt her knuckles as she rapped it. A cheerful "Come in!" sounded from inside and Erzsébet entered, closing the door behind her.

The office was a single cramped room with a wooden desk taking up the majority of the space. Various files were scattered higgledy-piggledy over the surface, some littering the carpet underneath. The only aspect in the office that looked remotely organised was a shelf behind the desk, upon which several Lego constructions were proudly displayed. On top of the desk, there was also half-completed Viking warship, surrounded by random pieces of Lego. A man with a shock of spiky hair hunched over the model and attached new bricks carefully. He was so engrossed in his work that his colleague sitting beside him had to clear his throat before he looked up.

The man leapt to his feet hastily and held out his hand. "Oh, hi! Yer the witness from the murder scene, right? Miss Hedever-something?" His voice was heavy with a Scandinavian accent, which surprised Erzsébet somewhat.

"Héderváry Erzsébet," she said, shaking his hand. She could feel tiny indents on the man's fingertips where the Lego pieces had dug in.

"I'm Officer Mathias Kølher, chief detective on this case." The officer ruffled his blond spikes and gestured to the man beside him. "And this is Officer Lukas Bondevik."

The second officer didn't shake her hand or even rise from his seat, but merely nodded in her direction. Erzsébet could not imagine two people who looked less alike. Lukas was wiry where Mathias was muscular, and his elegant hair fell flat in contrast to Mathias' gravity-defying tangle. His eyes looked melancholic and were narrowed grimly, whereas Mathias was beaming like a child on Christmas day. In fact, the sole similarity between the officers was that neither were wearing uniforms. Erzsébet recognised it as a sign that set the _Kriminalpolizei_ and _Schutzpolizei_ units apart. The _Kripo_ usually wore plainclothes, and they couldn't make arrests, but they were experts in the art of investigation.

"He's my _partner_ ," Mathias added, clapping a hand on Lukas' shoulder. Lukas pushed it off indifferently.

Erzsébet's lips twitched. "Partner?"

"Businesspartner," Lukas corrected. While he looked significantly shorter than Mathias, his voice had to be at least an octave deeper.

Erzsébet nodded slyly. _Business_ partner, of course. Like she hadn't heard that excuse at least a hundred times before.

"Er, take a seat, will ya?" Mathias said. Erzsébet sat down on a wooden chair on the opposite side of the desk.

"I've come to give evidence," she told them, "Earlier on, the police arrested a man named Roderich Edelstein on suspicion of m— mu… the incident. I know for a fact that he's innocent."

Her pronouncement was met with a surprised silence. Lukas immediately retrieved a clipboard and began scribbling notes, but Mathias raised his eyebrows dubiously. "Really? What makes ya so sure?"

"Because I was with him when it happened," Erzsébet said urgently, "We were watching the performance together when Fe— when the shot was fired. Everyone could hear it echoing all the way through the tent."

"What was the time?"

"Just after 9:30, I think."

"You realise Mr Edelstein was the one found with the body," Lukas said, looking up coldly from the clipboard, "He even had the gun in his hands."

Erzsébet's nerves twisted into a tight knot. This was the only part she didn't understand— the part that confused and terrified her whenever she considered it. "He had to leave a little while after the gunshot," she said, "My guess is that he stumbled across F— Fel… _it_ on the way to wherever he was going."

"And just stood beside the body instead of reporting it?"

A wave of pain and anger swept over her. All at once, images of the dressing room besieged her mind… the choking scent… the blood… the limp, lifeless body… Erzsébet raised her voice to avoid sobbing. "Do you have any how traumatic it was to see that? Roderich was the first one there, the first one! It's no wonder he didn't fucking report it!"

"Okay, okay, don't start yer period," Mathias said, holding up his hands.

Erzsébet sent him a furious scowl but kept quiet. Letting herself get emotional over this now wasn't going to solve anything. Lukas kept his eyes on the clipboard as he scribbled down the details. "Are there any other witnesses who saw Mr Edelstein with you?"

"Well, no, it was a private watchtower, but— "

"You know we can't fully consider your evidence without proof, don't you?"

"Why does it matter?" Erzsébet snapped, "Isn't _my_ word good enough? I thought that was the point of a witness."

"Not necessarily. How are we to know that you don't have a vested interest in protecting Mr Edelstein? We have to take precautions, you understand."

"Well precautions or not, Feliks was my best friend," Erzsébet said, as her eyes began to sting with tears, "My only vested interest is with finding his murderer."

"You're _sure_ Mr Edelstein was with you when the murder happened?" Lukas said seriously.

"Positive."

"And you'd be—" Lukas changed track as he suddenly noticed his colleague. "Officer! Concentrate, damn you!"

"Whaa—?" Mathias jerked up from absent-mindedly adding bricks to his model. "Heh, sorry, got a bit distracted there."

Lukas sent him a glare cold enough to freeze volcanoes. "No shit. Don't know how you expect to get any cases solved at all; your head's about as steady as that stupid boat."

"Hey, yer being cruel," said Mathias. He let go of the Lego ship gingerly; it rocked a few times but managed to remain upright. "See! It's perfectly steady on its own."

"As I was _saying_ ," Lukas said to Erzsébet, "Would you be prepared to swear that Mr Edelstein was with you this evening before a court of law?"

"Of course."

"I see. Give us a moment, please." Lukas moved his chair to face away from her and pulled Mathias' around with him. Erzsébet heard the two of them muttering together before they appeared to agree on a decision. Turning back, Mathias cleared his throat.

"Right, we're going to ask for Mr Edelweiss or whatever he's called to be released on bail, but we're not dropping this case. The head of our _Spurensicherung_ will be coming to the circus tomorrow morning for the autopsy results, okay?"

"Sounds fine to me."

"Good." He and Lukas rose from their seats. "We're going to have a word with the _Schutzpolizei_ officer who arrested the guy. Can ya wait here for a bit?"

Erzsébet nodded and the two _Kriminalpolizei_ officers left the room. She heard Lukas asking someone to take them to Roderich, then their footsteps began to fade away. Silence resumed. Erzsébet sat on the wooden chair and glanced at the small clock on the wall. She watched the snail-paced progression of the second hand, feeling herself grow steadily impatient. Her eyes flicked between files scattered around the room. Now these certainly looked interesting. Could any of them be preliminary reports about the murder? Had the _Kripo_ made deductions already? Erzsébet's pulse thumped an excited tattoo against her throat. Or better yet, maybe some of Mathias' papers could be love letters to Lukas! The urge to investigate strained inside her… but no. She knew it would be wrong to rifle through police documents, regardless of how irresistible they were.

But as another painful minute passed, Erzsébet could stand it no longer. She stood up, crept over to the other side of the desk, and opened the top drawer. A mixture of curiosity and guilt thrilled her skin, and she felt almost afraid to breathe. Like the desk's surface, the drawer was stuffed with bits of crumpled paper. Erzsébet pulled out a wad at random, and flicked through. To her disappointment, there was nothing about Feliks or Mathias' affections among them. Most of the documents pertained to a recent crisis in the illegal drugs trade, reporting several unknown suppliers in the Munich area. The investigations were apparently a top priority for Bavarian _Landespolizei._ Erzsébet scanned the reports, willing herself not to grow frustrated. What did it matter if a few people were selling marijuana? Her best friend had just been shot dead!

Erzsébet was about to check another batch of files when she heard voices outside. Her heart gave a frantic jolt. She slammed the drawer shut hastily and scurried back to the chair. The voices outside were growing louder.

"You're being such a spoilsport, Erik. I think you're just scared."

"I'm not scared, I just think— "

"Yes you are! Scaredy-cat, scaredy-cat sitting on the doormat!"

"I'm _not_ scared; _you're_ being an idiot. You're just going to get in the way."

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not! And Mr Puffin agrees with me, don't you?"

Erzsébet could have sworn she'd heard that first voice before. Standing up, she opened the door and walked out into the waiting room. There were two children outside who looked up as she entered. One of them, Erzsébet recognised as the boy whose fortune she had read that morning, still wearing the same sailor costume and oversized hat. He hugged the puffin to his chest with both arms, apparently unaware that it was struggling to free itself. The other boy was unfamiliar, with ruffled strawberry-blond hair and a streak of paint over his left cheek. He looked a couple of years older, and Erzsébet guessed him to be a brother.

"Hello?" she said.

"Hey, I know you!" The younger boy jumped up and down in excitement, inadvertently releasing the puffin. "You're that fortune teller person, aren't you? You're the one who said I was going to be _important_."

Erzsébet smiled. "What are you doing here? You haven't got yourself arrested, have you?"

"Of course not. This is basically where I live! My mother is an officer, my father's head of forensics and _that—_ " He pointed to the other boy. "That's my dumb brother, Erik."

"You're the dumb one, Peter!" Erik shot back, "The only important thing you do is get on everyone's nerves all the time."

Peter ignored him. "Hey, did you hear the news, missus?"

"What news?"

"There's been a murder! This guy called Feliks was shot at your carnival."

"Oh." Hearing the reminder tossed around so casually felt like a punch to the gut. "Yes, I… I did hear about that, actually."

Peter drew himself up importantly. He looked vaguely like an over-inflated punchbag. "Well guess what? I'm going to be the one who finds the killer."

"Er, that's wonderful! Good for you." Erzsébet didn't have the heart to disappoint him, especially since he looked so enthusiastic. Children always saw opportunity before tragedy.

"For the last time, Peter, you're not going to find a murderer," Erik said, "You can't even find actual clothes to wear!"

Peter scowled. "Fine! I don't need a Pokémon nerd to help me anyway, I'll just ask Charlotte. But when we've solved the case and get famous, then you'll be sorry!"

At that moment, the door opened at the other end of the waiting room. Roderich was the first out, hands bound behind his back, while Mathias and Lukas escorted him on either side. The ordeal of being arrested actually seemed to have _increased_ his snootiness, and he wore a scathing, condescending expression that made him look every inch a lord. Erzsébet turned away quickly so she didn't have to catch his eye. Thankfully the puffin provided a suitable distraction, taking flight with a squawk and attempting to settle on Lukas' shoulder. The officer shoved it aside, muttering. "Stupid bird," he said, "Remind me to tell Emil never to bring it to work again."

A couple of paces behind walked the intimidating _Schutzpolizei_ officer. She kept a stony gaze on the back of Roderich's head, but as they neared the end of the corridor, she looked up at the two children standing by the office. "Boys, what y' doin' here?" she said huskily, "Thought y' were with y' Dad."

"He's in the middle of the autopsy, he didn't want to be disturbed," Erik said.

Peter nodded. "Yeah, so we've been talking to this nice fortune teller instead. And _she_ thinks I'll be able to find the murderer, so there!"

"Sorry 'bout him," the officer said to Erzsébet, "Know he's a handf'l at times." Her accent, Erzsébet noticed, sounded similar to Mathias', although with more of a yokel twang.

"It's no problem. They're both very sweet boys," she said.

" _Sweet?"_ Peter spluttered, "I'm not sweet. I'm a brilliant and masterful detective!"

A barely noticeable smile twitched on his mother's lips. "'Course y' are, darling."

Meanwhile, Mathias was stooping behind Roderich to unlock his handcuffs. "We're releasing ya on bail," he told him, "But don't get comfortable 'cause yer not off the hook yet, fancy boy. Consider yerself top of our 'most wanted' list."

Roderich didn't reply but inspected his sore wrists with a disdainful little _'hmph!'_

"You're both free to go for the moment," Lukas said, gesturing to a third door— the one which Erzsébet had used to enter, "Remember that the _Spurensicherung_ team will be over at the circus first thing tomorrow morning."

Peter clapped his hands excitedly. "Yeah! Then you'll get to meet my dad too!"

"I'll look out for him," Erzsébet promised. She winked genially. "Bye for now, Peter, sweetie. Bye, Erik."

Peter waved with both hands as she and Roderich began to leave. "Bye, nice fortune teller!"

Beyond the waiting room was a cramped, dingy reception. Earlier on, there had been someone managing the desk, but it was completely unoccupied now. Roderich took advantage of their privacy by snorting in outrage as soon as the door behind them closed. "What atrocious behaviour! Arresting me, locking me in a cell, treating me like some common criminal." He rubbed his wrists miserably. "Honestly, whatever next!"

Erzsébet smiled wryly to herself as they walked to the entrance. The police might be German in Hell, but she was willing to bet that there was a special place in purgatory reserved for Scandinavian officers.

...

By the time she and Roderich left the police station, it was nearing midnight. It had also turned intolerably cold. Erzsébet hugged her arms around herself as she braved the sharp winds, mentally cursing herself for her thin clothing. Their journey back to the circus grounds began in silence. The roads were lit dimly by street lamps and, for the most part, remained completely empty. As they walked, Erzsébet could not help but sense some of Roderich's quirks revealing themselves. She noticed how he surveyed his surroundings frequently, how he paused unsurely at the end of every street, how he always looked up as if to check where she was heading first. Although she had resolved not to speak to him, this opportunity was too intriguing to pass up.

"Do you have any idea where you're going?" she asked eventually.

Roderich's brow furrowed, but his voice betrayed no hint of doubt, "Naturally. It _is_ my duty as a gentleman to escort you home."

"And according to you that's… which way?"

Roderich paused for a long moment. Then, he indicated a path to the left, and Erzsébet held in a snort of disbelieving laughter. "Um, that's the road that leads directly to the town centre..."

"Ah," Roderich said, peering more closely, "Ah, so it is, yes."

Erzsébet smirked and led him down a street in the opposite direction. "Looks like _I'll_ be doing the escorting tonight."

They continued walking in silence. After a few minutes, Erzsébet glanced up again and caught Roderich's eyes lingering on her hunched appearance. She was just about to ask why he was staring when he began to unbutton his thick navy overcoat, and pulled it off his shoulders.

"What are you doing?" Erzsébet asked.

"Come now, you look positively frozen," Roderich said. He held the coat out to her with a smooth, almost practiced flourish. "Here. I am quite warm myself."

Erzsébet gritted her teeth. Honestly, how irritating… "No thanks. I'm not cold," she said. At that moment, a shrieking gust of wind swept down the lane, and Erzsébet broke into a fit of shivering. Roderich said nothing, but raised his eyebrows and proffered his coat more insistently. Grudgingly, Erzsébet slipped it on. It smelt of cologne and chocolate and old wardrobes.

"Thanks," she said, feeling slightly ridiculous as the material swamped her figure.

Roderich politely inclined his head in response.

Neither of them spoke to each other for a while. Erzsébet felt so emotionally drained by the events of the day that she walked without really being aware of it, her mind deadened and blank. However, as their field and Big Top loomed in the distance, Roderich cleared his throat softly. "Miss Héderváry?"

"Erzsébet," she corrected. Being addressed as 'Miss Héderváry' made her feel like she was in a period drama.

"Erzsébet then— this is the second time you have rode to my rescue today," Roderich said, "Rest assured, you have my gratitude."

Erzsébet shrugged. "I know you didn't do it."

"Indeed I didn't. I've not even _held_ a gun in my life, let alone shot another man with one."

Erzsébet said nothing and continued walking. The plodding clop of her shoes against the pavement beat a regular rhythm. A moment later, Roderich placed a hand on her shoulder, gently bringing her to a halt. "Listen, I understand that I am much indebted to you for corroborating my innocence. If you intend to uncover the true killer, I promise to offer as much assistance as I can."

Erzsébet gave him a long look over. Illuminated by the street lamps, the pretty contours of his face juxtaposed a solemn, masculine gaze. He seemed the very picture of sincerity, but Erzsébet still couldn't bring herself to trust him. She knew better that that. "Oh really? You _promise_ , do you?"

"You have my word."

She folded her arms. "Right, then you can start by telling me exactly why you had to run off at the beginning of Alfred's performance."

Roderich's expression darkened. "No."

"Then we have a problem." Without waiting for a reply, Erzsébet turned and marched off with a determined stride. Roderich jogged to catch her up.

"Wait, surely you can't think _that_ was something related to the murder! I thought you believed me innocent?"

"Oh, I know that _you_ didn't do it, but that doesn't mean you weren't involved," Erzsébet said, "What if you're in cahoots with whoever did kill him? What if you had to leave to help them cover it up?"

"A most interesting theory," said Roderich, sarcasm layering every inch of his voice.

"Well? Is it true?"

"Certainly not!"

They had reached the field now— the long, uncut grass swishing underfoot as Erzsébet ploughed through. A wooden fence thronged the border and she ducked underneath to enter the circus grounds. After a moment of hesitation, Roderich followed her. He stooped awkwardly, careful not to dirty his hands and knees, and straightened on the other side. "Now, while we're on the subject of suspicious behaviour, what about _you?"_ he said, "You don't seem particularly upset."

" _What?"_ Furious venom shot through Erzsébet's veins. "What the hell do you mean? Feliks was the best friend I ever had, of _course_ I'm upset!"

"Why, you've not been crying that's all," Roderich said, "I'm rather apt when it comes to detecting these things, you know."

This time, Erzsébet laughed out loud, her rage giving way to derision. Did he expect her to break down in an uncontrollable weeping mess? Clearly, this man had a lot to learn. "Have you ever seen a Hungarian cry before?"

"I can't say that I have."

"That explains it then." Erzsébet said. She raised her chin as she spoke. _"We_ save our tears for the moments when we really need them. The moments when we're alone or with someone we trust enough to see us with our guard down. But it doesn't matter. I wouldn't expect a German man to understand that."

"Austrian actually. I was raised in Vienna."

Erzsébet nearly choked on her indignation. God, that was even worse. The Habsburgs had inflicted years of tyranny and persecution on her ancestors, and Roderich was obviously just the same. Just as conceited, just as condescending, just as utterly untrustworthy. And Erzsébet had endured about enough of talking to him today. She whipped around and scanned the circus, trying to pick out her tent from the many dark mounds. A flash of familiar colour caught her eye, and she followed it until she reached the entrance. It was exactly as she'd left it a few hours ago; a chalkboard with the prices propped up outside, tent flap open, smoky candles flickering eerily within. Just the same, yet in that time Feliks had gone, and Erzsébet's whole world was falling apart.

Roderich stopped beside her in the faint candle glow. "Is this where you reside?"

She nodded, shrugged off Roderich's coat, and handed it back to him. "Thanks again for this. Do you need any help getting back to your tent?"

"I do not currently have a tent of my own. Ludwig and Gilbert were, ah, _kind_ enough to let me share theirs for the time being." He glanced over his shoulder. "Their tent is right from here, correct?"

"No, it's on the left," said Erzsébet, "Pass one tent that way, then North past another two, and it's on the left after that."

"Ah, yes. Thank you." Roderich looked at his feet. "I really must get this layout memorised."

"Yeah."

A long pause followed, becoming increasingly awkward by the second. Erzsébet twisted her hands behind her back. Why was it so difficult to say goodbye all of a sudden? She needed to be alone; she needed to sleep the pain away, yet her tongue seemed to have wound itself into knots. But then Erzsébet looked up cautiously into Roderich's soft face and wide, searching eyes, and she realised why with a mortifying jolt. There was a part of her that did not want him to leave.

"Erzsébet?" Roderich said quietly. When Erzsébet did not respond, Roderich tried again. "Erzsébet, you must understand that I _am_ on your side. Violence of any kind sickens me and I could never bring myself to get mixed up in any of it, no matter how indirectly."

Erzsébet sighed, her breath fogging in the cool night air. She wished that she could believe Roderich's words. She wished that he, and everyone else in the circus, could be innocent of this atrocious crime. But deep down, she knew it would never be as simple as that. "Goodnight, Mr Edelstein," Erzsébet said, turning to scurry into her tent.

"Wait!"

She turned back warily. "What is it?"

"Well, I… er…" Roderich looked aside. "I— I was wondering if I could trouble you to address me by my first name too. It would please me very much."

Erzsébet only hesitated for a second. First-name terms felt far too familiar for her liking, but what the hell? Why not humour him on this one little indulgence?

"Goodnight, then," she said, " _Roderich_."

...

In the end, Erzsébet was only able to save her tears for two minutes longer. She simply walked into her sleeping compartment, sat on the edge of her camp bed, and completely broke down. Her sobs were violent, uncontrollable, almost unhinged. Erzsébet didn't care. Why should she care about anything any more? She let the tears consume her, drowning herself readily in the loss. Feliks' face burned a permanent imagine in her mind. He was all she could see; his cheeky smile, his pouting lips, his hair like woven gold. Feliks laughing, and dancing, and basking in the glory of being alive. She could even hear his voice. _"Caught you daydreaming again, Erzsi."…"You were totally making eyes at him all meeting!"…"Only I can achieve true fabulousness."_ But now, Erzsébet could never talk with him again. Never talk with him, laugh with him, tease him or even see had never cried so hard or for so long in her entire life.

Later that night, Erzsébet made a vow.

After what must have been hours of crying herself raw, she walked shakily into the main section of her tent. She felt as if she were in a trance. Damp smudges streaked her face and her eyes stung every time she blinked, but she couldn't remember ever feeling such a fierce sense of determination. Casting her hands over the crystal ball, Erzsébet swore by all the powers in the world— earthly or otherwise— to avenge Feliks in the only way she could.

There were two options. Either she would fight for Feliks' memory and bring the killer to justice, or she was going to die trying.

* * *

 _To be continued next week..._

* * *

 _Erik: Ladonia  
Officer _Oxenstierna _: nyo!Sweden (the only nyotalia character I'm using in this story)_

 _The information about German police units is based on the research I did. The Kriminalpolizei (or Kripo) is the criminal investigation unit, whereas the Schutzpolizei is a state-level, uniformed police unit. While most German police officers wear blue uniforms these days, Bavarian police still wear the old green designs. However, if anyone is German and knows that this this information is wrong in some way, feel free to correct me._

 _Thank you to everyone who has favourited, followed or reviewed this story so far. The support means a lot!_


	5. Chapter 5

Erzsébet awoke next morning to someone roughly shaking her by the shoulder.

"Stoppit, Feliks," she muttered, swatting the hand away blearily.

"Erzsébet? I think you ought to get up now."

Oh. That wasn't Feliks' voice. It was too deep for Feliks' voice. Erzsébet opened her eyes and the weary face of Ludwig Beilschmidt swam before her. "Are you awake?" he asked.

Suddenly, all of the memories from the night before came flooding back like a hangover of grief. The gunshot… Feliks' body slumped over the dressing table… her meeting with the police… her vow… Erzsébet rubbed her eyes and sat up drowsily. Her insides felt dead and heavy like blocks of wood. "Ludwig. Why d'you wake me?" She fumbled for the clock on her bedside table. It was 8:45 am.

"I'm sorry for having to disturb you, but the forensics report is starting in fifteen minutes," Ludwig said, "Of course, you do not have to come if you don't want to. Shall I tell them that—?"

"No, it's fine. I'll come." Erzsébet slipped out of her camp bed, shuddering half from cold and half from trepidation. She blinked heavily at Ludwig, slowly coming to the realisation that he looked very different from the night before. His bright eyes were now sunken and rimmed with black. His unwashed hair— usually so meticulous— fell over his forehead in messy strands. And as he scratched his unshaven chin, Erzsébet noticed a too-small, black t-shirt stretching against his bulging muscles. It was printed with bold writing that spelt out a very un-Ludwig phrase: ' _I'm kind of a big deal on my blog_.'

"This is Gilbert's, not mine," Ludwig explained as he noticed her staring, "I didn't have anything black of my own, so I suppose this will have to do."

Erzsébet nodded, deciding it would be tactless to tell him that Feliks had always hated the colour. Noticing a glass of water on her bedside table, she reached out for it and gulped it down gratefully. Her head was pounding with fatigue and dehydration. Ludwig waited until she had finished drinking before he spoke again.

"Shall I wait for you outside while you get dressed?"

Erzsébet nodded once more, and Ludwig disappeared behind her beaded curtain.

Within five minutes, Erzsébet threw on some clothes and headed out into the circus grounds. It was a typically bleak September day, the sky like a blotchy newspaper and the grass damp with dew. Erzsébet hurried past the other tents, struggling to keep up with Ludwig's rapid pace. The whole circus seemed quieter this morning, as if trapped in a bubble of isolation. It unnerved Erzsébet to see the place looking so lifeless. She didn't want this eerie silence; she waned chaos. She wanted mess. She wanted the whole world to collapse in on itself and just _acknowledge_ that a tragedy had occurred here.

"How has everyone been?" she asked Ludwig, "I haven't had a chance to talk to anyone since… you know."

Ludwig did not slow down as he answered. "Not good, unfortunately— I had quite a task getting them all to settle down last night. There is a still lot of suspicion directed at Roderich."

Erzsébet frowned. She'd been afraid of this happening, especially since Roderich was new to the company. "Do you believe it yourself?"

" _Him,_ a murderer?" Ludwig snorted. "That pathetic excuse for a man cannot even look at sea creatures without screaming the place down. Besides, you're a trustworthy person. If you say that he was with you at the time of the gunshot, I believe you."

Erzsébet smiled fleetingly, but the uncertainty did not leave her. The memory of Roderich's premature exit lingered like a weight inside her mind, and her stomach churned with sudden guilt. "Ludwig…" she began, "There's something I need to— "

"Hey!" An unwelcome shout suddenly tore overhead. "Hey, Hasselhoff, is that you?"

Ludwig froze and closed his eyes with a groan. "Oh no. Not _him._ "

To Erzsébet's left, Lovino Vargas emerged from the acrobats' tepee. He was still dressed in his sleepwear— a sleeveless shirt and a pair of tomato patterned boxer shorts— while the tired lines of his eyes made him look even crankier than usual. Erzsébet was actually quite surprised that he was even awake at this time.

Ludwig sighed as Lovino strode over furiously. "What do you want?" he said, "I haven't even had a chance to speak to your brother since last night."

"It's not about him, you potato-loving dickhead! Oh, um, sorry about the language, by the way," he added gruffly to Erzsébet, "But _you—"_ Lovino jabbed his finger towards Ludwig's chest. "You've really gone too far this time, further than I even… hey, what the hell are you _wearing_?"

Ludwig flushed, tugging the t-shirt uncomfortably. "This is Gilbert's, not mine. I do not even have a blog myself."

"Tch, trust an obnoxious potato bastard to have such an obnoxious shirt. And sorry again," Lovino said, nodding to Erzsébet, "But anyway, that's not the point. The point is that you, _German,_ are a liar and a thief and I've finally found you out!"

The dramatic triumph in his accusation was evidently lost on Ludwig. He stared at the Italian man blankly. "Lovino, I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

"Yes you do! You know exactly what you've done." At this point, Lovino unclenched one of his fists. He was holding an object made of fine Italian leather, with the club badge of _SSC Naples_ printed on the front. "Look at this, and tell me what it is!"

"It's a wallet." Ludwig said flatly.

"An _empty_ wallet," Lovino corrected, " _My_ empty wallet, actually. Last night, this had eighty-four Euros in it and now it's all gone. Feliciano's and Sebastiano's are just the same. Explain that, you jerk!"

Ludwig closed his eyes again and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Lovino, what on Earth would make you think that I'd steal your money?"

"I know what you're like! My dumb brother might be too blinded with infatuation to see it, but you're a heartless asshole— sorry Erzsébet— and I can just tell you've been taking advantage of him!"

"Feliciano and I have been on three dates, so far," Ludwig told him, his voice growing steadily louder, "On every occasion, he has roped _me_ into paying the bill, which I have done without complaint, and— "

"Exactly," Lovino snarled, "You think that he owes you money, don't you? You think you're entitled to just come along and take it!"

"I think no such thing!" Ludwig was almost shaking with rage by now. "I'm sorry about what you've lost, but you'll excuse me if I don't consider this matter a top priority at the moment."

Lovino folded his arms smugly. "Ha, that just proves you did steal it!"

"I did not!" Ludwig turned to Erzsébet, as if silently begging her for support. Erzsébet barely noticed him. Ever since Lovino's appearance, a tiny seed of suspicion had been nagging at her mind. Last night's impromptu schedule change had, after all, occurred for a reason; one of the Vargas' brothers had vanished. And if he wasn't performing… if he had deliberately slipped away from the others, then…

"Lovino," Erzsébet said slowly, "Where _were_ you during the performance yesterday?"

Lovino stopped in mid-sentence, the angry reply dying on his lips. He took a step back, eyes growing wide and alarmed. _"What?"_

"Yes… yes, that's right," Ludwig said, "Feliciano and Sebastiano were ready to perform, weren't they? But _you_ — youwere nowhere to be found."

"Well… I— I— " Lovino puffed out his cheeks. "Yeah, maybe I wasn't. But what does it matter anyway?"

"It matters, Lovino, because only a couple of minutes later, a member of our company was shot," said Ludwig, "So perhaps you'd care to explain for us just _where you were and what you were doing!"_

For once, Lovino was speechless. His hands bunched into fists, and his face burned a deep shade of red. Though his mouth hung open, nothing but stutters came out. "I was… w—was just…" He shook himself furiously. "O—one of those damn squirrels snuck into the dressing room, don't I keep telling you how shitty those locks are? Yeah, well I was just trying to get rid of it. _That's_ where I was!"

Erzsébet could only stare back in disbelief. The excuse was so childish that it might actually have been funny in a less serious situation. Besides, hadn't he used that story before? Ludwig seemed to be thinking similarly, and glanced at his watch. "Lovino, if you feel willing to tell us the truth any time soon, that would be much appreciated. Some of us actually have appointments to attend to."

Lovino swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bulging in his throat. He was doing his best to remain nonchalant, but his shaking hands and stiff posture gave away his true emotions. The reaction threw Erzsébet off guard somewhat. She had expected anger and confusion; she had even expected denial. But that expression on Lovino's face— that was different. That was pure and utter fear. " _Fuck,"_ he muttered under his breath. No apology followed.

A few moments of pregnant silence arose. Lovino finally punctured it by brandishing his wallet again. "I don't care what you say, I still know you took our money. I haven't dropped this case, got it?"

"Neither have I dropped your case Lovino," Ludwig replied coldly, "Now go and put some clothes on. You're embarrassing yourself."

Lovino looked for a moment as if he might retort, but seemed to think better of it. With a final huff, he whipped around and stalked back to the tepee. Erzsébet could still hear him grumbling in Italian as he ducked under the tent flap.

Ludwig breathed out slowly. "Good grief, that man is trouble."

"You don't think he did it, do you?" Erzsébet asked. Lovino had a temper, sure, and he was definitely hiding something, but whether he could actually _murder_ someone was another matter entirely.

"I honestly do not know what to think anymore."

They continued walking, unhindered by any further interruptions, until they arrived at the Ringmaster's tent. When Erzsébet stepped inside, she was slightly surprised by how little had changed. She'd been half-expecting to walk in on a newly constructed forensics laboratory, but the sparse oblong room that greeted her was the same sparse oblong room as before. Alfred was already present, whistling to himself tunelessly, while two people that Erzsébet didn't recognise waited at the table in silence. One had a round, plump face and an ugly jumper patterned with diamonds that would have made Feliks vomit. The other was a young, bored-looking man who barely seemed out of his teens.

As she and Ludwig entered, the man with the jumper looked up and greeted them cheerfully. "Morning, morning! Please take a seat and then we can make a start."

Ludwig nodded, pulled out a chair, and sat down. Erzsébet was about to do the same when she heard a sharp cry beside her. Ludwig leapt up from the table like he'd been burnt, surreptitiously rubbing his backside. Furious, he stared incredulously from his chair to the newcomers to the chair again. "Would somebody care to explain why there is a large and apparently highly vicious _seabird_ in my seat?"

Neither of the men seemed particularly surprised by this turn of events. The older man gasped and hid a giggle, while the younger ran a hand resignedly through his ash-blond hair. "Damn, I've _told_ him not to do that…" He ducked under the table and yelled, "Mr Puffin! _Come here!"_

There was a ruffling of feathers, and then the man emerged holding a familiar, wriggling puffin in his arms. "Um… sorry. Just continue what you were doing."

Erzsébet sat down hesitantly. She was already beginning to doubt whether either of these men were qualified. The man with the jumper shuffled through a pile of notes on the table, eventually appearing satisfied. "Alright then, let's go. My name is Tino Vainamoinen, and I'm head of the _Spurensicherung."_ Tino then gestured to the younger man."And this is my assistant, E—"

" _Gee,_ Ludwig!" Alfred said, giving a low, admiring whistle, "That's a hella cool shirt you've got there!"

Ludwig gritted his teeth and attempted in vain to fold his arms over the writing. "This is Gilbert's, not mine!"

Ignoring the interruption, Tino cleared his throat valiantly. "Er, this is my assistant, Emil Bondevik. Together, we're your representatives from our unit."

Still trying to calm the puffin, Tino's colleague nodded in their direction. Erzsébet squinted at him, sensing the familiar name connect with a different, yet still familiar face she had seen before. "Hey, you don't have a brother in the _Kripo,_ do you?" she asked.

Emil flushed. "No."

"Yes you do," Tino said, "Look, Emil, I know working with relatives is embarrassing, but you can't just refuse to acknowledge Lukas' existence. It's silly."

Emil lowered his dull eyes to the table. "Shut up."

Erzsébet smothered a laugh into her hands. This brooding family resemblance really was uncanny! After an uncomfortable pause, Ludwig gave a cough. "Er, the forensics results?"

"Of course, my apologies." Tino flicked through his notes. "First things first, our autopsy shows that the victim was killed by a single gunshot wound. The bullet broke apart upon hitting the first wall of the skull, lodging in the back of his brain. There are no marks anywhere else on his body; nothing to suggest that he put up a fight."

Erzsébet swallowed hard, feeling the air grow heavier. A vivid scene played out in her mind; the barrel of the gun nuzzling through Feliks' hair, the muzzle pressing cold against his head, the deafening gunshot splitting the whole world open…

Tino's voice cut suddenly through her bleak thoughts, "Emil, the weapon if you please?"

Emil nodded and pulled on a pair of rubber gloves from his pocket. He reached into a bag, retrieving the sort of gun that might have been used in cowboy films— complete with a wooden grip and metal barrel. Silver letters were engraved on the wood, spelling out the name 'Alfred F.' Tino put on his own gloves before taking the weapon. "We analysed fragments of the bullet and compared them to this revolver. The test results came back positive." He turned to Alfred. "We've been told that this belongs to you, Mr Jones?"

"Sure does," said Alfred, though he sounded a lot more glum than usual, "But, gee, I know I shoulda been more careful with it now. If only I'd realised it'd been taken…"

Ludwig shook his head. "Do not blame yourself. There's nothing that can be done about that now."

Tino turned the gun over in his hands. "This initial… 'F'… that's your middle name, I take it? What does stand for?"

"Freedom!" Alfred said. Although Emil snickered, there was not a hint of embarrassment in the American's voice. "My mom's a real patriot, y'know? She wanted to gimme a name that defines our country."

"I see. Unfortunately, we can't let you have this back, Alfred Freedom Jones," Tino said, "And it's probably best if we confiscate your entire gun collection after what happened."

Alfred nodded. "Sure, I understand. Just wish that had been done before."

"You can work out who did this, can't you?" Erzsébet asked Tino urgently, "There must be fingerprints or something."

Emil shook his head. "We've already carried out full tests on the weapon. The only identifiable fingerprints were Alfred's."

"I am sorry, but it's what we expected," Tino said, smiling sadly, "A lot of criminals these days have clued onto wearing gloves to avoid leaving unwanted evidence, especially…" he paused, his expression turning strangely guilty, "Especially for organised crime."

The words sank in uncomfortably. Ludwig sat up straighter. _"Organised crime?_ Isn't there a chance that this could simply be the random work of a psychopath?"

"It's very unlikely," Tino said, "Mr Lukasiewicz was sitting at his dressing table when he was murdered. If he'd felt threatened by a stranger, it's probable that he would have tried to run."

"So you're implying that the murder lured themselves in under false pretences?" Erzsébet asked.

"Exactly. And if that isn't enough to convince you, take a look at these." Shuffling through his notes, Tino extracted a small collection of photographs. He flung them down in the centre of the table and everyone leaned forwards for a glimpse. Each picture depicted the same image from a different angle— the mirror on Feliks' dressing table. Two haunting letters leered at Erzsébet like the eyes of a monster, over and over again.

" _In,"_ she murmured.

"Whether they were mentally deranged or not, I don't think that someone who killed for the fun of it would make such an effort to write those letters," Tino said, "The possibility of accidentally leaving evidence would be too risky."

Erzsébet tore her eyes away from the photographs. "Do you think the killer was trying to leave us a message?"

"It could be."

"You're kiddin' me! What kinda message can we get from that?" Alfred picked up the nearest photograph and squinted. "I mean, _In?_ What the hell would that even mean?"

Tino shrugged. "Perhaps only time will tell."

"You haven't managed to deduce anything else from the dressing table?" Ludwig asked, "Fingerprints, hair, dead skin particles?"

"We know that the blood on the mirror, and in fact in the whole room, is the victims', but apart from that, no."

The Ringmaster slumped back in frustration. "Oh for goodness sake! Are we really going to rely on nothing but guesswork here?"

"Things will become clearer when the _Kripo_ begin their investigations," Tino assured him, "At the very least, the photographs show that we have a probable record of the murder's motive to work with."

"But what _is_ that motive?" Ludwig asked.

Nobody answered him.

After a moment, Alfred spoke again, "You folks established a time of death yet?"

Emil pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and read from it, "The autopsy shows that the victim died any time between 9 and 9:40pm. Since a shot was reported slightly after 9:30, it's likely to have been then."

"Only 'likely'?" Alfred said, "Come on, we've got a guy in our troupe who's under false suspicion here! You gotta find evidence to prove Roderich's innocence."

Erzsébet felt a rush of warmth towards Alfred. Tino, however, could only look sympathetic. "It's difficult for us to jump to any conclusions at the moment. Until there's enough evidence to prove the contrary, we have just as much reason to suspect members of the Fireball Circus as we do anyone else."

There was no time for anyone to respond to this announcement. Just then, a loud _smash_ echoed outside, followed by the sound of a child wailing. Theirs words were drowned out by angry shouts.

Alfred jerked upright. "Woah! The hell's goin' on out there?"

Ludwig stood up, his face blanched. He said nothing, but shook his head and made an immediate dash for the entrance.

A scrape of chairs chorused around the room as everyone hastened to join him. Erzsébet was out of the tent in an instant and sprinted to catch up with the Ringmater. Her heart was beating in a jittery, irregular manner. Surely nothing horrible could have happened now, not this soon after Feliks. _Surely_.

It did not take long to find the source of the commotion. The shouts brought them outside the nearby caravan and adjoining greenhouse— both of which belonged to the Dutch siblings. A pair of terrified children cowered against the glass door, overshadowed by the tall, unyielding figure of Lars van Rjin. His face was etched with fury, his cheeks were red from shouting, and he fought madly to free himself while his brother Luca held him back.

"Snooping around!" he yelled, "Sticking you nose where it does not belong! I've got a good mind to phone your parents for this!"

"Lars, Lars, please!" Luca was still in his slippers and a luxury blue dressing gown, struggling to pull his brother away. "Come to your senses, they're just children!"

"That does NOT excuse them for thinking they can wander onto other people's property!" Lars shook free from Luca's grasp and grabbed one of the children by the collar. "I'm going to make you pay for this! Every single cent is coming straight out of your pocket money and there's nothing— "

"Stop!" cried a voice. Turning, Erzsébet saw Tino charge towards the greenhouse, looking thunderous. He skidded to a halt in front of Lars, hands already curled into fists. "Let go of him now. That's my son."

Although he only came up to the Dutch man's shoulders', the fire in Tino's eyes gave him an astonishingly intimidating aura. Lars dropped the boy almost instantly, though his expression remained unchanged. "Well I found _your son_ and his friend sneaking around in my greenhouse without permission. When I shouted at him, he jumped straight through the damn window." Lars gestured to the side of the greenhouse, where a few fragments of glass clung forlornly to an empty pane. "See?"

"Peter, is this true?" Tino asked in a hurt voice.

It was only at that point that Erzsébet recognised the boy from the police station, although he now wore a Transformers t-shirt in lieu of the sailor suit. Tears rolled down his face as he sobbed. "I d—didn't mean it, D—dad. We w—were only investigating and he g—gave me a fright."

"So you thought that was an excuse to start smashing up my property, did you?"

"Lars, honestly, it's just a window," Luca said, tugging at his brother's scarf, " _I'll_ pay for it if you like."

Tino sighed. "No, it's fine, I don't mind paying for the damage. But what are you even doing here Peter? I thought I told you to stay at home with Erik?"

Peter's friend lifted her head, her lip trembling. Erzsébet realised that it was the same girl she'd seen with him yesterday morning. "Please, mister, we weren't doing any harm. Peter just wants to catch this murderer, so we thought it would be a good idea to check everyone's tent for clues."

"Peter! What did we tell you yesterday?" Tino said, astounded, "It isn't up to _you_ to play detective, this is a case for the police force to solve. It's dangerous for you to get mixed up in things like this!"

Peter sniffled and rubbed his eyes with his sleeve, "But I want to do something important! That fortune teller person told me I could be a detective." He brightened as he spotted Erzsébet standing nearby and gestured to her excitedly. "Yeah, her!"

"Erzsébet?" Lars frowned.

Erzsébet held up her hands. "Please leave me out of this."

"Peter, look," Tino crouched down to his son's level. "There are lots of different ways of being important in the world. You're already very important to your mother and me, for example. That doesn't necessarily mean you have to do anything spectacular, or achieve worldwide fame."

Lars grunted. "Right. And it certainly doesn't mean you have to break in to other people's property."

"I still don't understand why this matters to you so much." Luca said, shaking his head, "I mean, really, what's the worst that could have happened?"

Tino fumbled in his pocket for a wallet and extracted a note. He thrust it at Lars who snatched it up eagerly. "There. That ought to cover the costs and you can keep the change as an apology. And as for you," He straightened up and took Peter's hand gently. "Come on, let's go home. We can drop Charlotte off on the way back."

Ludwig stepped forward. "Hang on a moment, what about the rest of the autopsy?"

"There isn't really anything left to say," Tino said, "Other than to warn all of you to keep on guard. It's highly likely that the murderer was well known to the victim and is still among you. It _could_ even be that they're planning more.

"Good gracious, I hope not!" Luca said, looking extremely alarmed.

"So do we all. But don't worry; I've worked as part of the _Spurensicherung_ for many years now, and we've never failed to solve a case as serious as this. We'll do our best to find this murder, I promise. For now, I'll have to leave you."

Ludwig nodded briskly. "Very well. Shall I escort you back to the car park?"

The two of them set off through the circus, weaving through the tents with Charlotte and a crestfallen Peter in tow. Emil trailed behind with his puffin, looking every bit as bored as when he had arrived. Lars watched their progress with a scowl, "That's why I could never raise children. They're wild, they're expensive and they never listen to anything you tell them."

"Lars, what on Earth has got into you today?" Luca asked, "Both of them were perfectly sweet. Besides, _you_ used to get up to all sorts of shenanigans, didn't you?"

Lars grunted. "No I didn't."

"You did! Come on, you used to do things like this all the time. Unless of course you've forgotten that criminal re—"

"SO!" Lars said loudly, "Still early in the morning, and there's lots to do. Why don't you go and get dressed, Luca?"

Luca frowned. "But—"

"Come on, let's go. Erzsébet, see you later."

And before anyone could say another word, Lars grabbed his brother's arm, wheeled him around, and dragged him towards the caravan. Erzsébet stared on, her feet glued to the grass, her mind spinning with doubtful, slightly frightened bewilderment.

…

With everyone else gone, Erzsébet walked back to her tent in solitude. The circus grounds felt even ghostlier than before, but she was glad of the time alone. It gave her the perfect opportunity to dwell on what the report had revealed. While it might be comforting to imagine the murderer as an unknown, violent lunatic, all evidence pointed towards the contrary. Whoever they were, it was almost certain that they would be familiar— both to Feliks and to the rest of the company. Erzsébet found the idea immensely disturbing, but the more she reflected on it, the more sense it made. She thought about Roderich, leaving her so abruptly after the gunshot. She thought about Lovino, inventing farcical stories to weasel out of telling the truth. She thought about Lars' hyperbolic anger, and Luca's slip-up potentially regarding his brother's past. But perhaps the greatest mystery of all was this writing on the mirror. Those two letters that seemed like nothing but smudges, but could prove to be concealing all the evidence they needed. _In._

Erzsébet's tent was situated in the southern section of the camp, away from most of the others. Feliks' had been nearest, but her closest neighbour now was Antonio, in his large, tomato-shaped dome. Given that it was still early, Erzsébet assumed that the Spaniard would be asleep, but as she passed the tent, she was struck by the sound of unexpected voices.

" _Mio dio,_ I didn't expect the Spanish inquisition. I mean, am I here for an interrogation, or what?"

"Hey, have you forgotten the most important part? It's a _Prussian_ inquisition too, bitch!"

Erzsébet froze mid-step, her heart pumping faster. She knew exactly whom those voices belonged to, and the content hardly made it sound like an ordinary conversation. Burning with curiosity, she flattened her ear against the outer tent canvas, just in time to hear a third person speaking.

"Quiet, both of you! Do you think this is a joke?"

"No, but—"

"Good. Because I can assure you, Sebastiano, you're in a deeply serious situation." Antonio's voice retained nothing of its usual cheerfulness. It had suddenly turned harsher and darker; a hundred times more serve. "How on earth do you expect you're going to get out of it?"

The cool reply permeated the tent walls clearly, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Nice try, kiddo," Gilbert said, "But that's not going to work. We know what you've been doing. And we know you're planning to do it again too."

The pause that followed seemed to contain eternity. The air thrummed with silent tension, and Erzsébet pressed her head closer to the tent lining, hardly daring to breathe. Her pulse thundered madly as she listened, though the atmosphere stayed ominously still. Finally, she heard Sebastiano speak again.

"So what are you going to do, force me not to?"

"No," Antonio said firmly, "We're not going to force you to do anything."

"Are you going to call the police?"

This time, Antonio took longer to answer. "No. I… I don't think it would end well…" Erzsébet noticed how carefully he said the words, almost as if he was not sure of them. The thought caused a suspicious kind of squirming in her gut.

"Then what?" Sebastiano asked, "Why did you bring me here?"

There was a heavy sigh, then the sound of pacing footsteps. When Antonio replied, the conflict in his voice remained palpable, "We want you to know that you don't have to go this alone. You're young, and a lot of what you're doing is very dangerous. We're both here to help you if you need it."

His statement was succeeded by another stifling pause, straining with the pressure of the unsaid.

"Right. Well… thanks," Sebastiano said, eventually, in an uncharacteristic, deadened tone, "Was there anything else, or can I go now?"

"That's all I have to say. But I don't want you to forget this conversation, Sebastiano. The deeper you fall, the harder it's going to become, and you need to know that."

"Yes… okay." There was the sound of movement within; trudging steps towards the entrance. "Goodbye then." The tent flap began to unzip. All of a sudden, Gilbert's voice sounded over the noise.

"Seriously kid, you do need to reconsider your actions. It'll be tough for you, but you'll be so much better off in the long run. Trust me."

Sebastiano did not pause. "Bye Gilbert." The zip rasped up more ferociously, and Erzsébet peered around the front, catching a glimpse of Sebastiano stepping outside. She shrank back against the red fabric wall, but he did not notice her. As he dragged his feet away, Erzsébet could not help but notice how hunched his figure was, how despondent his pace, how his arms hung limply by his side. Her chest tightened uncomfortably. The mysteries just kept coming today.

After a minute of silence, Gilbert spoke again. Erzsébet resumed her original position by the tent lining, her insides winding into thick knots.

"Toni—"

Antonio interjected wearily, "Look, I know what you're going to say, but—"

"Toni, what the FUCK? You're just going to sit back and do nothing? We actually have the chance to stop this, and you're not going to take it?"

"You _know_ we can't. I don't care what you think, Gil, I'm not turning a friend into the police."

There was a growl, then an abrupt _smash_ that sounded distinctly like a shattering object. Antonio gave a loud yelp, _"Mierda,_ not my football figurines!"

"BULLSHIT! That's utter bullshit! If you had any courage you'd go to the police right now!"

"Gil, it's not as simple as that, you don't know how— put that down!"

A second crashing sound resonated through the tent, accompanied by Gilbert's angry, desperate shouting, "Fuck this, Toni! I get why you're doing this, but it's still not right!"

" _Ay!_ Please just calm down, just—"

"Calm down? Nah, I'm done with that shit. But I will tell you this much," Gilbert lowered his voice suddenly, his tone harsh and threatening, "It's clear you're not going to say anything about this. But if you can't give me a good reason not to soon, you can be sure as hell that _I_ will!"

Antonio cried out anxiously, "But Gilbert, you can't… hey! Wait!"

But it was already too late. Quick, stomping footsteps filled the air, and Gilbert burst out of the tent a moment later. Like Sebastiano, he did not even throw a glace in Erzsébet's direction, but stormed straight off over the circus grounds with fierce, determined strides. All Erzsébet could do was watch him, completely unsure of how to react. For a moment, she considered entering Antonio's tent to confront him about the conversation. That eavesdropping session alone contained the most fascinating information she had ever heard— the kind of information that could transform curiosity and simple apprehension into deep, crawling fear. She changed her mind, however, when she heard a gasping noise inside. The sort of gasp that sounded worryingly similar to suppressed tears.

Instead, Erzsébet scurried back to her tent like a witness at a crime scene. Her head was buzzing with more questions than ever before.

* * *

 _To be continued next week..._

* * *

 _Spurensicherung: The German forensics unit._

 _Sorry this wasn't a very shippy chapter :P. I hope the mystery elements are still engrossing enough to carry the story._

 _Once again, thank you for the support from you wonderful readers. I've had some lovely reviews and some more follows and favourites, and I'm extremely grateful. Further feedback/opinions would very much be appreciated!_


	6. Chapter 6

Everything was ready.

The table had been cleared, the plastic tent windows boarded up, and a large 'No Entry' sign hung on the flap outside. Erzsébet circled the main room, lighting each of the candles in turn. She paused for a moment to breathe in the cloudy fragrance swirling around her. Deeming it suitably mystical, she sat down at her oak table with a pack of cards in her hands. Like many tools in Erzsébet's trade, the deck was typically Hungarian— a form of traditional gypsy tarot known as the _Magyar Kartya._ It had been passed down Erzsébet's family through the generations, and she always liked to imagine that her ancestors watched over her whenever she put the deck into use. After all, these cards held the power to do something no others could. These cards could tell the future.

Erzsébet shuffled the cards and set them face down on the table. "Tell me," she muttered, "What lies ahead in the life of Sebastiano Vargas?" She picked five cards from the deck, arranging them in a clockwise circle that started with the first drawn. One by one, she began to turn them over. Her pulse thumped with uncertain urgency.

The first card showed the 10 of Leaves, indicating a large sum of money. After a moment of deliberation, Erzsébet decided that it probably referred to Lovino's empty wallet complaint earlier this morning. She took a moment to mull it over. It still seemed unlikely that the theft and murder could be related, but she knew it would be unwise rule out any possibilities at this stage. Next to be revealed were the Ace of Hearts, King of Bells and 8 of Acorns. Each had its own meaning respectively, but the three cards acted alongside each other as the sign for a hospital. Erzsébet felt her eyebrows knot together. Now this was pretty much impenetrable. If Sebastiano was ill, where were the cards that represented sickness? If he was going to be injured, where were the cards that represented an accident, or an attack? It didn't make any sense, so Erzsébet turned over the final card instead. It was the 7 of Acorns, representing troubles or concerns. Any meaning beyond that was indistinct, but Erzsébet still felt an uncomfortable squiggle in her stomach as she viewed the small, perturbing card. Whatever the proposed future held for Sebastiano, it hardly looked like a positive one.

Erzsébet collected the cards and re-shuffled the pack in preparation for another question. "Tell me," she said, "What motives did Feliks' murderer go by?"

She chose only four cards this time, and set them out in the same way. To her frustration, the message they disclosed proved to be just as elusive. First was the 10 of Hearts, the card for family affairs, followed by the King of Bells, which represented an older male relative. In all the time she'd been Feliks' friend, Erzsébet had never met so much as one of his family members. Feliks had barely even talked about his relatives and whenever he did, he always implied that they were living in Poland, where he'd grown up. If Feliks' death _was_ connected to his family, Erzsébet would be absolutely clueless about where to begin. The remaining cards were even worse— the 8 of Bells and the 7 of Acorns, suggesting a negative change. Was it _possible_ for that to be any vaguer? Erzsébet shuffled the deck again, willing herself not to lose hope. Her ancestors were just being annoyingly tricky today.

Erzsébet was deliberating on a third question when she heard the tent flap unzipping. She glanced up to see a visitor burst into the entrance, bringing in a blast of grey light from outside. "Morning Erzsébet!" he said.

"Oh. Hey there, Feliciano." Erzsébet set her cards down on the table and smiled at the young Italian man. "Er, I don't mean to be rude or anything, but didn't you see the sign outside?"

"Um… maybe? Do you mean the red circle with the white slash though it?"

"Yep. You know it means 'No Entry', don't you?"

"Does it?" Feliciano looked slightly worried at that. "I thought it meant 'Austrian street'. It looks just like an Austrian flag to me!"

Erzsébet fought back a laugh. "Haven't you seen signs like that when you've been driving, sweetie?"

"Ve~ I don't really look at road signs when I'm in the car. It's more exciting to just do driving!" Feliciano said. He tilted his head uncertainly. "But does that mean you don't want me here?"

"No, it's fine. It'll be good to have a chance to catch up with you." Erzsébet stood up to find another seat. The last time she'd had a proper chat with Feliciano felt like a lifetime ago— certainly not since the incident, not even since the wonderful announcement that he and Ludwig were dating. Besides, since he was close to both of his brothers, Feliciano's insight into their strange behaviour could prove to be useful.

Feliciano cheered, "Yay! Everyone's been too busy to talk to me today. But do you mind if I open up the windows? It's really dark in here!"

Once the tent had been opened to the light and Erzsébet had extinguished a few candles, Feliciano settled on a chair opposite. He looked considerably more cheerful than when Erzsébet had last seen him, although his russet hair was scraggly and there were bleary smudges over his cheeks. "How have you been recently?" she asked him, "You are alright, aren't you?"

Feliciano tugged fretfully at his rumpled shirtsleeve. "I am now. I was so scared after what h—happened last night and I wanted to sleep in Ludwig's tent, but he said he had too much to sort out. Then I tried to get in Lovi's sleeping bag like I did when we were little but he kicked me out. So I had to sleep all on my own, and that isn't nice at all! It's always better to be with another person when bad things happen."

"I know what you mean."

Feliciano flashed her a smile, but it was much more hollow and uncertain than the one that Erzsébet knew. Something was clearly wrong. She regarded him with patient concern while he hummed artificially and swung his legs under the table. Finally, he looked up and spoke in a very small voice, "Do you… do you think Ludwig will still want to be with me after this?"

"What?" Erzsébet cried, "Don't be ridiculous, of course he will!"

"But we haven't been officially dating for long! He already gets really distracted when we're together," cried Feliciano, "Sometimes I even have to secretly turn his phone off to stop people calling and texting him about work. Maybe now it'll be too much for him to have a boyfriend with all the horrible things going on."

"Feli, dear," Erzsébet said, "How much do _you_ love Ludwig?"

Feliciano replied automatically. "To the end of the world and back again! But what if he doesn't—"

"Then you need to realise that this isn't a realistic possibility. It's obvious that Ludwig really loves you too, and he isn't going to cast that away just because of the murder."

"Maybe…" Feliciano said. Then he brightened suddenly. "Oooh, I've just remembered! Ludwig told me that you went to the police station last night, and you gave evidence. Did you manage to save Roderich?"

The mention of the name shot through Erzsébet like a confused lightning strike. She bit her lip. "Yes, he's been released on bale. But he's still under suspicion, just like the rest of us."

"Well I think it was really nice of you. Ve~ you're like a guardian angel, proving his innocence!"

Erzsébet chose to ignore the implications behind that, instead focusing on Feliciano's last statement. "You believe he's innocent?" she asked.

"Of course! He's Ludwig's cousin, and I don't think someone related to Ludwig could ever do anything nasty." Feliciano tapped his fingers on the table, and suddenly noticed the deck of cards. His expression changed from thoughtful to excited. "Cool! Were you doing your tarot reading before I came in?"

Erzsébet nodded, reaching to pick up the deck. "Would you like a go, dear? Think of a question and I'll ask the cards to answer it."

"Okay! Er…" Feliciano frowned in concentration. "Ooh, I've got it! Can you ask them if Lovino and Ludwig are ever going to get along?"

"Sure." Erzsébet shuffled the deck and muttered Feliciano's question before picking four, choice cards. She spread them over the table and unveiled the first. The nearby candles cast flickering light over the card, illuminating the suit, number and accompanying image of the 10 of Bells. Clearing her throat, Erzsébet prepared the mystical voice reserved for her fortune telling. "I see the _Vajdahunyad_ Castle, a commemoration of ancient Hungarian conquest," she whispered, describing the picture on the front, "This indicates a period of time; three months at the very least."

Feliciano cocked his head. "So… does this mean Lovi will start liking Ludwig in three months time?"

"It could be, it could be," Erzsébet said in a hushed tone. Next, she turned over the 9 of Acorns. "Now I see King Attila's wooden palace. I suspect you will soon come across a sudden happening that you are not awaiting. Something you least expect."

"Really?" Feliciano fidgeted, looking increasingly concerned. "But is that a good something, or a bad something."

"It is impossible to say. Perhaps you will discover that in time." Erzsébet flipped the final cards over together, revealing the 7 and Lower Jack of Leaves. "Finally, I see a young knight of the ancient _Arpad_ dynasty, along with my namesake, _Szent Erzsébet_. The best I can estimate is that it signifies the thoughts of a young man's sexual desires, but it is difficult to tell. The meaning evades me slightly."

Feliciano stared at the cards, eyebrows furrowed. "And that's… it?"

"That's all I can see for the time being."

"But how am I supposed to know if they'll like each other from that?" Feliciano wailed, "I mean, it was creepy and magical and everything, but I'm so confused now."

Erzsébet scooped the cards up and shuffled them back into the deck. "The spirits rarely give an answer outright. Most of the time they only act as a guide for us to follow, and allow us to work out the meanings for ourselves. You understand that, don't you?"

"I guess…"

Erzsébet set the cards down again, then jumped at the sound of somebody brusquely clearing their throat. The noise seemed to be coming from outside the tent. Erzsébet called out hesitantly. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

The reply came in a clear, lightly accented voice, "My apologies for being unable to knock. May I impose upon your hospitality?"

Erzsébet froze. She knew that voice, and the sound of it alone caused an angry flare to fire through her veins. She gritted her teeth. "Alright. Come in."

"Thank you." Roderich Edelstein stooped under the flap and emerged inside. Unlike everyone else Erzsébet had seen today, he looked as smartly dressed and as dignified as ever, his customary fluffy cloth tired around his neck. "You see, I was wondering if— ah, good morning, Feliciano." Roderich paused and fiddled with his cuff. "I must confess, I wasn't expecting Erzsébet to have company."

"Oh!" Feliciano leapt up from his chair. "I can leave if you like. I wouldn't want to… um… _get in the way_ of anything."

"No, there isn't any need for that. It's simple really, just…" Roderich blushed daintily, and fixed his eyes on his well-polished shoes. "I merely wished to make good on my promise. I intend to aid you in uncovering this mystery, Erzsébet, and now seems as good a time as any to begin."

Erzsébet raised her eyebrows, unconvinced. "Thanks, but I—"

"Yay, Mr Roderich! You can join in with the tarot cards!" Feliciano grinned widely, bouncing on his heels. "Ve~ I'll go and get another chair."

And before Erzsébet could protest, he hurried off through the beaded curtain. Erzsébet closed her eyes briefly in exasperation, making a mental note to never let Feliciano interrupt her again. She forced a polite smile as Roderich sauntered over to the table. His gaze fixed on the deck, and his nose wrinkled. _"Tarot cards?"_

"That's right!" Erzsébet said sweetly, "I've been trying to use my abilities to establish information about the murder. I'll have to remember to ask them where you ran off to as soon as I can."

Roderich ignored the jibe, but tightened his lips all the same. _"_ _Tarot cards_ … I thought you of all people would realise how serious this situation is. Murder evidence is based around tangible facts, not your ridiculous superstitions."

Erzsébet felt a stab of resentment, as she always did when someone dared to insult her profession. "Are motives factual?" she shot back, "Are the thoughts and emotions which run through a killer's mind based around tangible evidence?"

" _Hmph,"_ Roderich said, folding his arms. Even with his scorn, he managed to make the gesture seem elegant, and it irritated Erzsébet immensely.

"What's wrong?" she asked, "Don't you want to admit that I've got you outsmarted?"

"You have done no such thing!"

At that moment, Feliciano returned carrying a foldable chair. He set it down before Roderich, and the three of them sat around the table. Erzsébet fumed silently, compelling herself to calm down before she said anything. She was just considering whether she was composed enough to offer drinks when Feliciano gave an exclamation. "Wow, that's a nice watch, Mr Roderich!"

"Hmmm?" Roderich glanced at his left wrist. "Yes, I suppose it is rather fetching." He attempted to pull his cuffs over the top, but Feliciano had already grabbed his hand to admire it.

"Ve~ it's so pretty and sparkly! And it looks really expensive."

"It might have cost a— a fair amount, as I recall, but I don't think it is of any particular significance, so if you could just…" Roderich jerked his hand free and dug into his trouser pocket for a small notepad and a purple fountain pen. He cleared his throat and flipped the pad open. "It occurred to me that we have so far ignored the most obvious step in our investigations. The gunshot ended Feliks' life, correct? Surely it would be useful to work out where every member of the company was at this point."

Feliciano rested his chin on his hands. "Mmmmm, good idea! Unless it was someone from the audience. It _could_ be someone from the audience, right?"

"No," Roderich said quickly, "I… Feliks was perfectly happy about having the killer in his dressing room. It must have been someone he had known well and wished to have with him."

"Unless they pretended to be a fan," Erzsébet suggested, remembering what the cards said about family affairs, "Feliks would have let anyone in if they, say, asked for his autograph or something."

Roderich impatiently tapped the fountain pen. "The number of visitors to the circus was near uncountable. I would prefer if we didn't make our case unnecessarily difficult from the outset."

"But just say— "

"That is _enough_ _!"_ Roderich gripped the pen so tightly that the knuckles on his right hand whitened. Erzsébet stared at him, feeling herself grow wary. Why had Roderich become so insistent all of a sudden? Could it be that he knew more about this than he was letting on? She tucked the suspicion away for later examination as Roderich spoke again. "For now, let us focus only on those we know, agreed?"

"Agreed," repeated Erzsébet and Feliciano in unison.

One by one, the three of them began to exclude company members with known alibis. Erzsébet and Roderich's names were at the top of the list and, once Feliciano revealed that he'd been waiting in the stands with Ludwig, both of theirs quickly followed in Roderich's elaborate, frilly handwriting. Alfred had been performing, which ruled him out, while Belle and Luca were under strict orders to manage the vending outside the Big Top. This wasn't outright proof of their innocence, but as Erzsébet pointed out, it reduced the likelihood of either of them being able to slip away unnoticed, unless they were working together. Roderich was going to add Sebastiano's name too, until Feliciano remembered that his brother had left the stands to find Lovino.

"But we don't need to put them on accusations list," he said anxiously as Roderich turned over to a new page, "They're my family and I know they'd never want to hurt anyone unless they deserved it."

Roderich ignored him and started writing the names of the remaining members. "We cannot afford to dismiss anyone on sentimental grounds, Feliciano."

Aside from Feliciano's brothers, there were three others listed under key suspicion— Lars, Antonio and Gilbert. Roderich put the lid back onto his pen with a _click_ and twisted it between his fingers. "Given my inexperience, you may need to enlighten me," he said, "Are there any reasons why somebody here would wish to murder Feliks? A disagreement, perhaps? Jealousy?"

Erzsébet shook her head. "Feliks was very well-liked in general. It's just as much of a mystery to me as it is to you."

"I think it could be Lars," Feliciano said sagely, "The others are all really nice, but he's scary!"

Roderich scoffed in disbelief. "Calling Gilbert 'nice' rather stretches the definition of the word, wouldn't you agree?"

"But Gilbert told me that I was cute, and he's always been so supportive of me hanging out Ludwig. He wanted us to get together ages before I asked Ludwig out."

"Clearly you don't know Gilbert as I do," Roderich said darkly, "God, how I used to dread family gatherings… that man terrorised my childhood and, to this day, he remains an uncultured swine."

Feliciano's expression remained resolute. "Even if you don't like him, Gilbert wouldn't shoot Feliks. I know he wouldn't!"

"Hmm. We can only hope you prove to be correct," Roderich said, drumming his fingers on the table. He turned to Erzsébet. "What's your opinion on the matter? You must have known Gilbert quite personally, after all."

Erzsébet considered the question. All the times she'd been happy with Gilbert were fresh in her memory; whenever he'd kissed her unexpectedly, or held her hand on their hiking expeditions, or tried to make her laugh with some joke or silly story. His acquaintance with Feliks had been somewhat more antagonistic— a sentiment that only increased after the break-up— but they had still known each other for many years. Erzsébet couldn't imagine Gilbert plotting murder against any long-term colleague, whether they got along well or not.

"Gilbert is self-centred and unpredictable, but he isn't a killer," she said. Then she bit her lip, another thought coming into mind. "That said, I haven't spoken to him in over a year. I don't have any way of knowing how much he's changed."

" _Over a year?"_ Feliciano repeated. He stared at Erzsébet with a half-frightened, half-piteous expression, like she had tried to cook pasta without boiling the water first. _"Oh mio Dio…_ I knew you weren't talking to him much but I didn't know that! Was the break-up _that_ bad?"

"Not really. It was more of…" Erzsébet paused, struggling for the right phrase. How exactly could she define it— the moment when she realised that she no longer felt happy or secure in that intense, competitive relationship? "More of a natural end. We weren't suited to be together in the long term."

"Then why don't you talk to him? Just as friends?"

"Well _he_ doesn't make any attempt to talk to _me_." Erzsébet huffed, no longer caring about sounding childish. "No way am I'm not going to be the first one."

Feliciano shook his head urgently. "No, no! That's not a good attitude to take at all! Haven't you leant anything from Feliks dying?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that life's too short to hold grudges over teeny things," Feliciano said, "What if Gilbert had died instead of Feliks, and you'd never made up with him, or never told him that you still cared?"

Roderich looked up from absent-mindedly doodling music notes on his notepad. "Honestly, Feliciano, you're far too emotionally orientated for your own good."

"But it's _true_ _!"_ Feliciano insisted, "Please just think about it. _Please_."

Erzsébet stared at him for a long moment. She'd never seen him look this serious about anything in her whole life. In a split second, Feliciano had aged so much; a thousand years older and wiser than the boy who thought a 'No Entry' sign meant 'Austrian street'. Erzsébet sighed deeply. As much as she hated to admit it, he was probably right. Besides, she could not resist that adorable expression. "Okay, I'll think about it. Maybe."

"Yay, Erzsébet!" Feliciano's chair toppled over as he leapt up and flung his arms around her. "I knew you'd make the right decision!"

"Hold on, I only said I'd think about it." Erzsébet said, slightly squashed into Feliciano's chest, "I'm not promising anything!"

"I must say, I agree with Feliciano here," said Roderich, "Gilbert certainly won't reveal anything to me but, as a friend, you might be able to acquire some insight into where he was that evening."

Feliciano let go of Erzsébet to push Roderich's shoulder. "Stop that! Gilbert didn't do it!"

"Good grief, what has Gilbert done now?"

Everyone turned at the sound of the familiar voice. Ludwig Beilschmidt hovered by the entrance in Gilbert's t-shirt, hands plunged deeply into the pockets of his combat trousers. He looked just as dismal as earlier, although Erzsébet noticed that he had at least taken the pains to gel back his hair. The one sign of normality stood out starkly against his crumpled figure.

"Ludwig!" Feliciano sprang up to launch himself at the German's body. "Yay! I haven't seen you in about forever!"

Ludwig wearily caught him to prevent a collision. "I saw you yesterday, Feliciano."

"Exactly, that's about forever! And last night I was feeling so alone and scared, and— oooh!" Feliciano traced a hand over Ludwig's chest. "I like your shirt!"

"This is Gilber— wait…" Ludwig stopped in the middle of his monotonous recital and blinked. "You _like_ it?"

"Ve~ it's so funny, and good for showing off your muscles too, although I didn't know you had a blog! Is it yours?"

"Oh," Ludwig said blankly, "Er, yes this is one of my favourites, actuall— ah!" He gave a start as Feliciano jumped up and pressed a fleeting kiss to his lips. "My God, you crazy Italian, give me more warning next time!"

But Feliciano could only laugh. "Ve~ Ludwig, I've finally worked your kissing flavour."

"Kissing flavour?"

"That's right. Everyone has a flavour when you kiss them and I think yours is beer, which is actually really obvious because you drink beer all the time, even though it's yucky, and—"

Feliciano broke off as Roderich suddenly gave a very loud and very pointed false cough. His eyes were narrowed at Ludwig and Feliciano, and held the same fierce disdain he'd given the tarot cards. Feliciano titled his head. "What is it? Do you want me to find out _your_ kissing flavour too, Mr Roderich?"

"No!" Ludwig and Roderich cried together. Erzsébet stifled a laugh into her hands.

"Roderich, that reminds me." Ludwig walked into the tent, glaring at his cousin. "I noticed you were absent from the forensics report this morning."

Roderich folded his arms. "That was your doing. The coffee you brought me was far too bitter, and I could not drink it."

Ludwig made a growling noise in the back of his throat. It sounded somewhat like a compressed scream. "Then make it yourself in future! Aren't you capable of doing _anything_ apart from sitting around and looking pretty?"

"Thank you for the compliment. At least it means that I'm not anal-retentive like you are."

The two of them continued scowling in silence, deliberately avoiding each other's gaze. Feliciano took the opportunity to tug at Ludwig's sleeve. "So is it your free time now?"

"Yes. I thought it might be pleasant to spend it with you."

"Awww, that's so sweet. You're so sweet! Oooh, we should really go somewhere together, although if we do it will have to be your tent, because Lovino is really grumpy today." Feliciano broke off with a nervous giggle. "Or at least, grumpier than usual."

At the last part of the sentence, Erzsébet's stomach flipped, the memory of the earlier confrontation spinning in her mind. Ludwig cleared his throat. "Actually, we're aware of that already. Erzsébet and I had the misfortune of bumping into Lovino."

Feliciano's face fell. "Oh no! I'm so sorry, Ludwig, I don't know why he thinks _you're_ a thief. I told him you're not a meanie and you wouldn't have done it, but he won't believe me."

"Feli, sweetie, _you_ don't have any idea where your money went, do you?" Erzsébet asked. Feliciano just shrugged apologetically.

"It's really weird isn't it? Hardly anyone knows where I keep my wallet, and I don't know how they managed to steal so much without waking us up, but money doesn't just disappear. Not that it really matters after what happened, of course, but—"

"Hold on, a moment of clarification," Roderich said, "Am I correct in assuming from this conversation that somebody broke into Feliciano's tent and stole some money after Feliks was killed?"

"That's right," said Feliciano.

Roderich stared back incredulously. "And despite the timing of this occurrence, your analysis is that it _doesn't really matter?"_

Feliciano opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. A look of fearful confusion permeated his features, and he grasped hold on Ludwig's arm.

"Are you saying that the events are connected?" Erzsébet asked Roderich.

Roderich pulled the lid off his pen and began scribbling another note at top speed. "I would be exceedingly surprised if it did not turn out that way."

Ludwig scratched his unshaven chin. "That or it's a very strange coincidence."

There was a short, contemplative silence. Mentally, Erzsébet tried to establish a link, tried to consider what could possibly motivate someone, upon committing a murder, to then steal from an entirely different target. But the more she racked her brains, the more her thoughts kept wandering back to Lovino himself. Lovino with his shifty eyes and twitchy movements. Lovino with his anger, his excuses, his inexplicable fear…

Erzsébet turned to Feliciano. "You haven't noticed _Lovino_ acting strangely, have you? There haven't been any recent changes in his behaviour?"

"I don't thinkso…" Feliciano said carefully, "I mean, Lovino is Lovino. Which means that he gets super cranky and angry, and sometimes he disappears without telling us where he's going, but that's not really any different from usual."

Erzsébet frowned. It might not sound like much to Feliciano, but dramatic mood swings and unexplained disappearances were definitely suspicious as far as she was concerned. "Just keep an eye on him, okay? It's possible that he might be up to something."

"I'll try." Feliciano said. Then he turned to Ludwig. "Ve~ we should get going if we're going to have any time together before your boring work gets in the way. Do you have any special plans?"

Ludwig gave himself a shake, as if attempting to dismiss all the unpleasant thoughts. "Not particularly. Unless you can think of anything you'd like to do, _Liebling."_ The last word sounded noticeably clunky and awkward as he spoke it, forcing Erzsébet to suppress a laugh. She had almost forgotten how artificial terms of endearment sounded in a German accent.

Feliciano's grin widened even further. "Well I can certainly think of _something_ I want to do..." Winking slyly, he took Ludwig's hand and laced their fingers together. "Come on!"

And with that, the two of them left the tent. Erzsébet's heart swelled as she watched them together— Feliciano all light and eagerness, dragging the blushing and stumbling Ringmaster behind him. Roderich, however, seemed much less impressed by the display of affection. "Honestly, how terribly vulgar," he muttered.

Erzsébet pursed her lips. _"Vulgar?_ What was vulgar about that?"

"This… this _intimacy,"_ Roderich said, "How long have Ludwig and Feliciano been together, exactly? A week? Two? And yet they are already engaging in indecent practices!" He shuddered, wrinkling his nose.

Erzsébet nearly spluttered in disbelief. It was unbelievable to think that somebody could actually be so prudish in this day and age. "Yeah, I guess they should be staying pure and virginal until marriage, shouldn't they?" she said sarcastically.

Roderich raised an affronted eyebrow. "I merely think they should refrain from being so _public_ about it."

Erzsébet sighed, but decided not to pursue the matter any further. It was obvious that someone as snooty as Roderich wasn't going to understand. Distracted, her eyes trailed to the notepad on the table, then to the pair of slender hands resting beside it. The watch that had so fascinated Feliciano gleamed gold on Roderich's left wrist, and Erzsébet was slightly taken aback by the sheer ostentatiousness. She could tell from a glance alone that it was a Rolex model, while the abundance of diamonds indicated that it must have cost a fortune. Not that the extravagance was surprising from a man who wore fluffy cloths. Erzsébet put it out of mind, and decided to change the subject. "So you're actually suspicious of Gilbert?" she asked.

Roderich snorted. "I would be a fool if I were not. What of it?"

"Nothing." Erzsébet said with a shrug. She briefly considered letting the matter drop, then realised that she was genuinely interested. "Only I couldn't help noticing last night that he was suspicious of you too."

Roderich sighed. "I don't know if you have realised this, Erzsébet, but Gilbert and I are not exactly kindred spirits. You of all people should be able to understand that."

"Oh I can certainly understand. But there's a fine line between annoying and murderous," Erzsébet said, "What makes him think you fall into the latter category?"

"Why on earth should I know?" Roderich said. He twirled his pen with an impatient flourish. "Honestly, you'd be better off consulting those foolish cards again."

For the second time that day, Erzsébet felt a jolt of indignation pierce her gut. She hardened her lips, unable to suppress the rising vindictive urge. _Pompous little bastard..._ "If you don't want to tell me your suspicions of Gilbert, fine," she said hotly, "It's obvious that you're just jealous of his machismo anyway!"

Erzsébet realised immediately that the spiteful words must have struck a nerve. Roderich jerked as if he'd been slapped, and his whole face reddened. "That has absolutely nothing to do with it! As if I would ever want to turn into that muscle-headed brute!" He breathed sharply through his nose. "There is still no doubt in my mind that he could have caused this inconvenience, whatever you may think."

Erzsébet's indignation instantly deepened into rage. _"Inconvenience?"_

"Yes, it means an unpleasant or difficult—"

"I know exactly what it means!" Erzsébet snapped. A part of her knew it was ridiculous to get worked up over this, but the word was too clinical, too heartless for her to ignore. "You're forgetting that Feliks was a person, Roderich. He had friends, he had family, he had ambitions. Don't you _dare_ turn his murder into an inconvenience!"

Roderich gave her a long look over. His own fury had mellowed, and his eyebrows were raised slightly in a kind of gentlemanly bemusement. "No, you're quite right," he said, "That was a terribly insensitive comment. Please allow me to apologise."

Erzsébet blinked back her angry tears, a little thrown. That had not been the answer she was expecting, and she found herself embarrassingly unable formulate a response. Roderich had not yet broken his gaze. His eyes burned into hers with such earnest magnetism that Erzsébet could not easily look away. She hadn't realised how unusual those eyes were before— a shade of blue so deep and so regal that she was almost tempted to describe them as purple. Somehow, it made him look even more aristocratic. Somehow, it made him look even more stunningly beautiful.

All of Erzsébet's anger fizzled straight out, leaving her with a surreal, unexpected sensation. Something guilty and curious prickled over her skin as her mind filled with possibilities. What would _Roderich's_ kissing flavour taste like? How would terms of endearment sound in an Austrian accent? Instinctively, Erzsébet felt herself drawing in nearer, as if pulled by an invisible power. Roderich breathed in sharply, but he did not move away. He was far too close now, Erzsébet realised. Too close, and too pretty, with his skin like silk, and his smell overpowering, and his rich eyes growing steadily darker. And as his lips parted in elegant surprise, Erzsébet wasn't sure if she could resist moving closer still…

Suddenly, a bird cheeped overheard, breaking the spell. It was only then that Erzsébet remembered Feliks, remembered her vow. Furious with herself, she pulled back. Her heart was hammering with such force that it left her feeling stunned.

There was no easy way for either of them to react. Their silent stare had lingered for so long that it was impossible to excuse it. But in the end, it was Roderich who took the initiative. He stood up, cleared his throat, and pretended to check his extravagant watch. "I really ought to leave you now," he said, cramming the notepad and pen into his pocket, "My thanks for your hospitality, Erzsébet. Good day."

Erzsébet nodded and forced herself to wish him goodbye in turn before he was gone. Frustrated, she tugged indecisively at her hair. It was utterly absurd for her to be feeling like this. She had not experienced a crush this intense or pervasive since she was a teenager; wasn't it about time that she grew up? But at the same time, Erzsébet knew she couldn't help finding Roderich Edelstein attractive. Even putting aside the fact that he looked like he had stepped out of Jane Austen novel, there was another reason too. Roderich might seem vain and superior, but beneath that haughty exterior came the faintest glimmers of something different. Something considerate, honest, and quietly passionate that Erzsébet longed to explore.

Erzsébet teased and prodded at the thought like a loose tooth until she finally cracked. After checking that nobody was outside, she seized the _Magyar Kartya_ deck waiting on the table and shuffled the cards furiously. She couldn't stand it any longer— she had to know about Roderich's motivations. She _had_ to.

"Tell me," she whispered frantically, holding the deck to her lips, "Should I trust Roderich Edelstein? What can I expect from him in the future?" Erzsébet sensed that she only needed one card, and choose it poking out somewhere in the middle of the deck. Heart thumping, she turned it over in her hands. Her insides went stone cold.

Staring back at her so innocently was the Lower Jack of Acorns. The card that represented deceit.

* * *

 _To be continued next week..._

* * *

 _The Magyar Karta deck is the Hungarian version of playing cards. All have images which relate to Hungarian history, geography or mythology. However, they can also be used as tarot cards, and all have distinct meanings. Both the pictures, and the explanations given in the story are correct to the best of my knowledge._

 _Again, many thanks to everyone who is reading and enjoying this. Every comment, favourite or follow is highly appreciated._


	7. Chapter 7

A day passed since Feliks' murder, and swiftly turned itself into a week with terrifying ease. All future performances at the Fireball Circus were cancelled. There were no practices or conferences either, but every company member was required by law to remain living on the circus grounds, as if stuck in an aimless time loop. Despite these changes, it was easy enough for Erzsébet to keep herself occupied. Mountains of circus paperwork required her attention, and she spent each day in a flurry of determined activity. Yet even through this semblance of routine, Erzsébet still felt, still grieved, and still remembered. Even through all the daily chores, the tedious administration duties, the endless meetings and interviews with the _Kriminalpolizei,_ she could never quite shake off the constant ache inside.

Erzsébet had not cried since the night of the murder, but the numb pain of it festered like an old wound. Every morning she awoke to the same sickening realisation; every night her sleep was tainted with fretful dreams. Little reminders of Feliks seemed to be lurking everywhere. They were usually small, silly things, like songs or colours or snatches of conversation, but Erzsébet was unable to grow accustomed to them. Sometimes they made her feel angry, sometimes they made her feel sad, but more often than not, they just confused her. She did not know whether she was ready to think about Feliks yet, and did not know whether it would be better or worse to suppress the memories until she was. But there was one thought that Erzsébet clung onto— one resolve that made sense through all the grief and uncertainty. She was going to find Feliks' killer. She was going to find them, and bring them to justice.

Aside from the murder, two other issues nagged at Erzsébet that week, both in the form of irritating young men. Thankfully, the issue with Roderich proved to be a lot more manageable than she had expected. They had spoken on numerous occasions since the staring incident— tentatively at first, then with a gradual, if slightly guarded sense of familiarity. Erzsébet was both surprised and relieved by how pleasant these conversations became. Roderich still regarded her disdainfully, and he still refused to smile, but some of his snobbery had lately given way to a careful politeness. Although Erzsébet could not trust him after the warning from her tarot cards, she was at least grateful that he was making this acquaintance bearable. She only wished that her other problem could be so easily solved. Erzsébet had thought that agreeing to make up with Gilbert might appease Feliciano. If anything, it only seemed to increase his resolve. The incessant pestering quickly grew extremely annoying, a bit like being followed around by a whiny, talkative bee. Erzsébet tried not to pay attention at first, but the more Feliciano hassled, the more she realised that she couldn't ignore Gilbert forever. Sooner or later, someone had to make the move.

Which is why she found herself standing outside the Beilschmidt's tent on Friday morning, a white teddy bear tucked under her arm and an impending sense of trepidation in her gut. She took a breath to steal herself before ringing the bell that Ludwig hung over the entrance. Really, she had no idea why she was so nervous. Gilbert was not a difficult person to talk to, and she was actually quite keen to renew their friendship. Yet she could not suppress the doubtful voice inside that wondered whether Gilbert would feel the same. Perhaps he would spurn her; perhaps he would laugh mockingly in her face. Or even worse, perhaps there was a part of him that still wanted a… _different_ sort of relationship. Erzsébet felt her stomach clench, and she forced the thoughts out of mind.

It took quite some time for anyone to let her in. Erzsébet could hear Ludwig shouting inside, and a harassed kind of "Okay, okay!" in reply. When the tent flap opened, it was Gilbert himself who stood on the other side. He held a can of beer in one hand, and wore a tasteless t-shirt printed with the words _'Five Metres of Awesome'_ and an arrow pointing towards his crotch. Erzsébet's heart gave a nervous twinge.

"Morning!" Gilbert said, then he realised who was calling. His smirk faded. "Oh. Ludi's around the back if you want to talk to him…"

Erzsébet stepped forward. "Actually, Gilbert, I wanted to talk to you."

" _Me?"_ Gilbert's mouth fell open. "Er, well yeah, of course you want to talk to the awesome me! How could you not? Heh!" His laugh was so strained that it sounded more like he was swallowing his voice. Erzsébet gritted her teeth, ready to deliver the painful speech that she'd practiced in front of the mirror.

"I just wanted to say… I think it's silly for us to keep going on like this. Not talking. Pretending we don't exist. Especially after… what happened. I might not be in love with you any more, but I still care about you as a friend and, well— " Blushing, she thrust the teddy bear at Gilbert's chest. "This is to say sorry."

For a moment, Gilbert seemed lost for words. He dropped the beer can, and stared in shock from Erzsébet to the teddy bear as if she'd just told him that Oktoberfest had been cancelled. Then, his face split into a wide grin, stretching from ear to ear. "Haha, I knew you'd come around eventually! Who wouldn't want to be friends with someone as great as me? I, um, was going to ask you myself, but I couldn't find the time."

"Were you?" Erzsébet said dryly.

"Yeah! It's just I've been super busy with everything lately but, er… " His expression softened and he looked aside. "I guess I kind of… missed you."

"I kind of missed you too, Gil."

They stood for a while in nervous silence, though thankfully not an uncomfortable one. Gilbert looked at the teddy bear in his hands and ruffled its head. "Awww, he's so cute! What's his name?"

"Doesn't have one yet. But how do you know it's a boy?"

"I can always tell. I have special insight and stuff," Gilbert said, "Anyway, come in! I know you're just dying for the chance to hear about all the awesome things I've been doing."

Gilbert led Erzsébet through the meeting room to a poky sleeping compartment at the back of the tent. The sloping canopy halved the area inside, and three camp beds were squashed into a space clearly meant for two. Ludwig sat upon one of them, tapping at a laptop balanced over his crossed legs. The others remained unoccupied. Gilbert ran over to his bed immediately, placing the white teddy bear carefully on the mattress. The bed was covered with various cuddly toys already, including several birds, a panda, and a bear dressed in a football kit. Gilbird the budgie fluttered around the pillow, chirping happily.

"Hey guys," Gilbert said, addressing his menagerie, "Guess what, you're all super lucky today because I brought you a new friend. Say hello, everyone!"

Ludwig glanced at Erzsébet suspiciously over the top of his laptop screen. "Please don't tell me that my brother forced you into buying more useless junk for him," he said.

"This one was a present, actually. Long overdue," said Erzsébet. She decided against mentioning that she had actually found the bear in lost property from last week's performance.

Gilbert suddenly spun around and lunged at Ludwig's bed. "Dammit, Ludi, that's my laptop!" he cried, "Give it back!"

Ludwig deftly raised the laptop out of reach. "You didn't seem to be doing anything important."

"I was totally doing something important! The fate of the entire Prussian army is at stake in my _Total War_ campaign, and I can't let my countrymen down."

"You spend a lot of time in Bavaria for a self-proclaimed Prussian, you know."

"Yeah, checking the place out before I invade Munich. But that's not the point. I was halfway through a battle!" Gilbert made another swipe for the laptop, and Ludwig swatted his hands away.

"You will be pleased to know that I clicked the save button before exiting."

Gilbert put his hands on his hips. "You'd better have done, 'cause I'm not doing all that conquering shit again. What do you even need it for anyway?"

"I— " Ludwig hesitated for a fraction of a second. "I'm making a blog."

For a moment, Gilbert and Erzsébet just stared back, incredulous. Then Gilbert's face lit up with worrying delight. He caught Erzsébet's eye, and the two of them descended into a fit of giggles.

Ludwig frowned and began tapping the keys with renewed force. "Alright, I think you two can stop now. I don't really see the funny side."

Erzsébet shook her head, unable to keep the amused smile off her face. Ludwig was far too much of a cutie to mock, but he did make it so easy sometimes… "This wouldn't be for Feli, by any chance?" she asked.

"It… it is actually. Although it's still _your_ fault," Ludwig said, glaring at his brother, "Feliciano happened to see your ridiculous T-Shirt the other day and got the wrong impression. He's been asking me for my blog's URL ever since."

"So instead of admitting that you're a boring work-obsessed nerd, you're actually _making_ one?" Gilbert snorted and wiped away his tears of laughter. "Haha, that's too funny!"

Sighing, Ludwig plugged a pair of headphones into the laptop and placed them over his ears to block out any further ridicule. Gilbert's chuckling abruptly transformed into a splutter, and he became seized with a short but fully-fledged coughing fit. Pulling out his inhaler, he hastily sucked on the end. He cast it down on his pillow while he regained control of his breathing, then turned to Erzsébet. "Wanna kick some zombie ass?" he asked, nodding at a television and games console lurking in the corner.

"Sure," Erzsébet said.

While Gilbert set up the game, she sat down on the third bed in the room. The mattress felt softer and springier than usual, but it was notoriously untidy in comparison to the Beilschmidts' beds. The quilt was creased and tossed haphazardly over the mattress. The pillow hung halfway off the bed, completely eschew. Random clothes had been draped over the bedstead— a waistcoat, a pair of trousers, and a… fluffy cloth. "Is this Roderich's bed?" Erzsébet asked.

Gilbert made a face. " _Un_ fortunately. I tried to make him get his own tent but the specky little priss started shitting his pants at the idea of spending money."

Erzsébet bit her lip. She knew that Roderich could be pompous and deluded, but she didn't think he _quite_ warranted the bitter loathing in Gilbert's voice. "Why do you hate him so much? He's seems perfectly nice to me."

"Shit, don't tell me you actually _like_ Roder-dick," Gilbert said, inserting a disk into the drive, "He's good at faking politeness but, trust me, he's the really the biggest asshole you'll ever meet."

A week ago, Erzsébet might have been inclined to agree. There was still a very vocal part of her mind that realised Gilbert was talking a lot of sense. But in that moment, all reason gave way to blinding instinct, and Erzsébet suddenly found herself blurting something out to defend him, "At least Rode _rich_ has class," she said, "That's more than can be said for you, Gil."

"Haha, class? Well, guess what, I've got some very shocking news for you." Gilbert reached over to pick up something that had fallen off the end of Roderich's bed. It was a very faded pair of boxer shorts with a purple patch stitched into the back. "Look, he can't even bring himself to buy new underwear when his old ones are falling apart. He just patches them up again and again. He's got a shit-ton of money from his Dad's side of the family, but he'd never be prepared to spend any of it, stingy little prick."

Gilbert laughed again and flung the boxer shorts on the bed. Erzsébet stared at the flimsy patch, still a little sceptical. Surely that couldn't be right. Surely Roderich couldn't be as frugal as Gilbert suggested when he owned such a luxurious watch. "Where is he now, anyway?" she asked, deciding to put the matter out of mind.

"Roder-dick? Doing his prissy piano practice over at the main tent." Gilbert pressed a button on the remote, and the TV screen sprang into life."Damn, that reminds me, I've got to go out and get his sorry ass back here once he's finished."

"And when _does_ he finish?" Erzsébet said, catching the controller that Gilbert tossed her way.

Gilbert settled down beside her, lounging back with a second controller in his hands. "He said he'd give us a call."

…

Roderich ended up ringing fifteen minutes later, by which time Erzsébet had already played through several gruesome rounds of _CoD: Zombies_. Gilbert won the majority, causing him to become more arrogant than ever. Thankfully, Ludwig cut their last game short by unplugging the power chord and insisting that they went to escort Roderich back. Ignoring Gilbert's feeble excuses, Erzsébet complied and dragged him outside.

It was a breezy morning, with an earthy, autumnal tang about the air. Erzsébet and Gilbert hurried through the circus grounds while stray leaves whipped up and danced around their feet. The lilt of piano keys echoed from afar, growing steadily louder and fuller as they followed the music towards the Big Top. As soon as Erzsébet stepped into the vast marquee, her heart began to swell in her chest. The grand piano must have been moved since the last production, for it no longer stood upon the stage, but in a secluded corner near the entrance. Roderich sat behind the instrument; straight-backed, poised, and swaying with the immense sound. He looked every inch a God atop his throne, lost in the magic of his performance.

"Fucking poncey show-off," Gilbert muttered.

Erzsébet shivered involuntarily, though it had nothing to do with Gilbert's language. All the pieces she'd heard Roderich play on stage were slow— gorgeous and captivating, yes, but still slow. _This_ piece was fiendishly quick, with booming chords and rolling glissandos that sounded as mischievous as they did majestic. But what really made Erzsébet's skin tingle was not only the performance itself, but the fact that she recognised the tune. Fond memories of ancient folklore and mystical tradition burst into her mind, and she had to make a conscious effort to breathe through the stirring nostalgia.

Roderich eventually concluded the piece with a regal flourish, and took his hands off the keys. There was an impish smirk playing on his features; the closest thing to a smile Erzsébet had seen from him. When he finally opened his eyes, they caught hers almost straight away. His expression softened. "Ah, Erzsébet, how nice to see you this morning. Not so nice to see _you_ ," he added, nodding at Gilbert, "But I suppose one can't have everything."

"You're lucky I actually decided to come, Specs!" Gilbert said, "You suck so much at directions that you'd never be able to find your way back without my awesome skills to guide you."

Erzsébet, however, only had one thing she wanted to say to Roderich. She spoke quickly, before he could get an angry retort in, "Hungarian rhapsody."

Roderich raised his eyebrows at the clear adulation in her voice. "That's correct. Liszt, Number 10. I thought you might appreciate it."

Erzsébet nodded, knowing full well that 'appreciate' was both an understatement and a disservice to possibly the best patriotic rendition she had ever heard. She managed a shy smile as she toyed with the hem of her skirt. "It was my Grandmother's favourite…"

"She must have had fine musical taste then," Roderich said, "Liszt is always a challenging choice given that he employs such radical departures from harmony, but I think I am well-practiced enough to do a little justice to his singular musical form."

"You think adding a load of sissy technical terms makes it sound more impressive?" Gilbert sneered, "Nope, all piano music is just the same, everyone knows that."

"That's mean, Gil," Erzsébet said reproachfully.

Buttoning his navy overcoat, Roderich stood up from the bench and replaced the lid over the keys. "Don't bother, Erzsébet, I cannot say I'm surprised by his attitude. Clearly, such subtle beauty is beyond philistines."

"Pfff, yeah right! I could play that thing any day," Gilbert drawled, "In fact, why don't you give me a go on it now?"

Roderich reacted instantly, flattening himself against the instrument and holding out his arms as if shielding a precious child. "Don't you dare even think about _touching_ my piano!"

"Awww, come on! I used to play the flute so well I could have gone professional when I was about five or something."

"Even if I believed that nonsense, they are entirely different instruments, Gilbert," Roderich said. His wide eyes flickered anxiously in an attempt at authority. "I'm warning you, not a step closer."

Gilbert snickered. "What are you going to do, slap me with your glove?"

"No," Roderich said, drawing himself up, "But I _will_ tell Ludwig the moment I next see him."

Gilbert took a nervous step backwards. "Haha, like I wanted to play it anyway. The piano's way too girly for me, I need a badass instrument like… like…" He clicked his fingers. "Like a guitar! Yeah, I could rock a guitar!"

He glanced around as if he was expecting one to materialise out of thin air. Spotting some cleaning equipment lying by the side of the stage, he gave a whoop of delight and rushed over to pick up one of the brooms. "Hey, look at this! Look at how awesome it is!" He pretended to strum the brush, making loud guitar noises. "Neyow neyow neyow! Gilbert is the best, Gilbert is the best!"

He looked so comical and dorky, and so very _Gilbert_ that Erzsébet had to fight a laugh. Roderich folded his arms, unimpressed. "Honestly, you idiot. Kindly put that down and stop making a fool of yourself."

"Neyow neyow, Roderich's a sissy girl-boy! Neyow neyow neyooow!" As Gilbert strummed the brush, a cloud of dust rose up and he sneezed violently.

Roderich curled his lip. "Could you at least have the courtesy to cover your mouth when you do that?"

"I can't _heh—_ help it, it's my asthma! It makes m—me— _Hwe'schooow!"_

"I think that's probably enough for now," Erzsébet said, striding over to coax the broom out of Gilbert's hands.

"That's not fair! I was just giving you a sample of my brilliant skills."

"If you do insist on treating us to your music, at least use a proper instrument next time, imbecile."

Erzsébet left them to their argument and tossed the broom onto the stage. It landed against the wood with a heavy clatter, and Erzsébet would have discarded it altogether were it not for the unusual sound that followed. There was an almighty, menacing groan, like something giving way, then the slam of wood knocking against a surface. Erzsébet leaned forward cautiously. What she had considered to be part of the stage had swung open, leaving a gaping hole underneath. It looked just about large enough to admit a person. Erzsébet peered into the gap, so intrigued that her breath began to still. It was too dark inside to make anything out, but a strong musty scent wafted into her nostrils. Erzsébet drew back slightly, contemplating. Perhaps this was just a storage space that she had never noticed before. Yet she could not ignore the gnawing suspicion inside that said otherwise. Spinning around, she called out to the others:

"You two! Look at this."

She was met with no response. Roderich and Gilbert were glowering at each other across the room, still bickering furiously over God knew what. Erzsébet raised her voice to a shout. _"Hey!"_

Miraculously, her cry managed to get the pair to turn around. "What is it?" Gilbert asked.

Erzsébet said nothing, but beckoned them over to the stage. Her doubts were confirmed the moment Gilbert and Roderich surveyed the trapdoor, both immediately adopting looks of perplexity.

"Oh my!" Roderich said, taking off his spectacles to rub his eyes, "Is this… is this the first time you've ever seen this entrance?"

"Yes," Erzsébet said quietly.

"No suggestions of any moving panels or secret areas before?"

Erzsébet shared an uneasy glance with Gilbert, knowing that he must be thinking the same thing as she was. The Big Top had been set up countless times in countless locations over the years, but the number of times that anyone had mentioned a space underneath the stage was definitely countable. Zero.

"Yeah, this is weird as fuck," said Gilbert, slowly shaking his head.

"I think there are probably two possibilities," Erzsébet said, "Either this is a feature that the manufactures included, and we've all been too stupid to recognise it until now. Or…" She faltered, trying not to succumb to a sudden urge to shudder. Roderich completed the sentence in her stead,

"Or it must have been created more recently, in secret, and presumably for a specific purpose."

Gilbert clapped his hands together like it was nothing more than a new level on a video game. "Well there's only one way to find out which one, isn't there? C'mon, let's explore!"

"Hold on." Roderich placed a firm hand on Gilbert's shoulder, pulling him back. "Do you really think this is a wise idea? We'd be walking into something entirely unknown here, goodness knows what we might find."

Gilbert shook his hand away. "That's bullshit, Specs! _You're_ just afraid that you're gonna make your nice coat all dusty," he said.

Roderich gave an affronted sniff. "Well, this _is_ cashmere, you know…"

"Which proves my point exactly, princess."

While the squabble continued, Erzsébet glanced through the trapdoor again. She didn't know whether it was just her imagination, but she was sure that she could see vague outlines of shapes as she blinked into the darkness. A chill prickled over her skin. Roderich was right; it wasn't a remotely sensible idea to go fumbling around in a gloomy and mysterious passage. The correct response to this situation would surely be to leave the entrance alone and ask the _Kripo_ to investigate at the soonest opportunity. But at the same time, Erzsébet knew that was impossible. The memory of her vow played in her thoughts, filling her with a resolute sense of duty. Didn't she have an obligation to explore anything unusual? Didn't she owe it to Feliks to summon enough courage for a quick search? Erzsébet straightened up, squaring her jaw.

"Someone find a light source," she said, "We're going inside."

…

After a five-minute struggle, Gilbert succeeded in detaching one of the LED lights that thronged the stage. The main beam brought forth a blazing white glare; so strong that it was nearly blinding. There was a short dispute over who would be entering the room first. Roderich made a vague stab at gallantry and insisted that Erzsébet should hold back, but since she was the one who had discovered the entrance, his protests were outvoted. Erzsébet steadied her nerves, clutching the lamp in one hand while she lowered herself through the trapdoor. Her feet hit the ground almost immediately. She crouched down as much as possible, edging forward on her hands and knees into the space beneath the stage.

In Erzsébet's opinion, the resulting room was not exactly worth staging a debate over. It was not exactly a _room_ at all— more of a cramped, stuffy hollow. Overhead, the gaps between the rafters cast thin strips of light over a bumpy floor, while the whole place stank of sawdust. Dust and cobwebs were collecting everywhere she cast her eye, making it increasingly difficult to breathe without inhaling anything. Erzsébet tried kneeling tentatively. There was just enough room before she hit her head, although both Roderich and Gilbert seemed to be having trouble as they crawled in after her.

Roderich began brushing the front of his overcoat in what he must have thought was a surreptitious manner. "Now, would somebody mind explaining what made this ridiculous excursion worthwhile?" he said.

In response, Erzsébet flashed the lamp around the low area. A moth-eaten red sleeping bag lay in the middle, surrounded by a stack of large boxes. Each one was sealed with a lid on top, so it was impossible to guess what might be inside.

"So this _is_ just a storage space?" Gilbert asked.

"Depends on what it is that's being stored." Erzsébet said. She trained the light on the sleeping bag, illuminating its worn texture. "Do you think this is just here for safekeeping, or do you think someone might be using it?"

Roderich snorted. "This is hardly the Ritz, is it?"

"Y'know Specs, for once I actually agree with you. There's got to be about a metric fucktonne of dust down here," Gilbert said, letting out a raspy cough. He slipped a hand into one of his pockets and rummaged around. When his search came up empty, he repeated the process with the next pocket, then patted himself down frantically. "Ah, shit. I think I might have left my inhaler back at Ludi's tent."

There was a moment of pained silence.

"Gilbert, you are a complete and utter fool," Roderich snapped.

"Haha, you just admitted you're worried about me!" Gilbert said, "And, I mean, who can blame you when you've got a cousin who's as awes— "

Erzsébet interrupted tersely, "Gil, of course we're going worried about you. There's a chance you might suffocate!"

"Suffocate?" Gilbert laughed, although it sounded more like a wheeze. "Don't be melodramatic, Erzsi, it makes you sound like Ludwig."

"Just go back up, this won't take long…"

"Nah, I'll be fine for a moment. Anyway, we've got investigating to do!" Gilbert crawled over to the other side of the room to start on the boxes. Erzsébet looked at Roderich, who just shrugged his shoulders defeatedly and followed him over. Gilbert had already torn the nearest box open and was busy delving through a collection of hoodies and flannel shirts inside. Erzsébet began ripping the lids of those that remained. The first box contained jeans, underwear, and not a lot else. The second appeared to be full of kitchen equipment. Erzsébet tipped it over for a closer examination, scattering sauce bottles, cutlery, and even a large steel frying pan over the floor.

"Jesus!" Gilbert yanked his hand out of the way as the pan narrowly avoided hitting his thumb. "Watch what you're doing there, Erzsi."

"Sorry," Erzsébet muttered. There was nothing noteworthy at the bottom on the box, so she scooped the items up and carefully replaced them. She knew she ought to feel relieved that everything they had found was so mundane, but the tension in her shoulders only seemed to be building. If these clothes and utilities really were here for storage, why weren't they being kept above ground for everyone to access? Why had they only just discovered this location now? As Erzsébet ripped off another lid, her mind swamped with questions, she looked up briefly to see Roderich examining the trapdoor.

"What are you doing?" she asked him.

Roderich traced his fingers over the wood. "I believe I have discovered a most unusual contraption."

"Really?" Erzsébet said. She crawled towards the entrance. "What is it?"

Roderich took Erzsébet's hand in his, and lifted it up to the beams. "There. Can you feel that?"

Just beyond the gap, Erzsébet's fingertips brushed against cold mental fastened onto the wood. The shape of it felt like a long, thin cylinder. "Is that… a bolt?" asked Erzsébet.

"Correct. The matching part is on here," Roderich said, tapping the trapdoor, "Curious, wouldn't you say? This flap can swing upwards or downwards, but the only way anyone would be able to lock it is if they were inside, as we are now."

"Yeah…" Erzsébet pulled her hand away, feeling a little breathless. The revelation with the bolt was startling, but all she could think about were Roderich's intricate fingers, and how gently they had enclosed around hers. She forced herself to focus. "A design error, do you think? Or could it be that it's frequently used?"

"Honestly, I have no idea."

" _Heh'chooo!"_

Both Roderich and Erzsébet turned abruptly as another booming sneeze tore through the air. Gilbert knelt by the boxes, rubbing his nose against the back of his hand. "Goddamn allergies."

Roderich sighed witheringly. "For goodness sake, Gilbert, where are your manners? One should never sneeze openly when a lady is present."

"Oh sure, I know _that._ But you're family, Roddy, so I don't think you really count," Gilbert said. He grinned hugely while Roderich just shook his head in despair.

"You know what I meant, you fool."

Erzsébet surveyed the boxes. By now, Gilbert had finished emptying most of them, leaving an assortment of clothes, toiletries, stationary, and other household items strewn around the area. As Erzsébet scanned over them, her eyes caught on a stray bit of paper nearby. It looked about the same size and shape as a postcard. "What's that?" she asked, pointing to it.

Gilbert shrugged. "Nothing important. But I bet _you'll_ like it."

Erzsébet took the paper and held up to the lamplight. It was an old photograph, slightly torn around the edges, which displayed two young men embracing in a cornfield. The man on the left was pressing a kiss to his partner's cheek. The man on the right simply stared straight ahead, beaming like he was blessed with all the love in the world. Erzsébet let out a small squeal of approval. "Awww, that's so cute!"

"Sheesh, it's just a picture. No need to go apeshit, woman."

Erzsébet was ready to retort angrily, but a sudden slam from above made her jump. Her heart plummeted. Something had caused the trapdoor to close without warning. Some _thing_ or some _one_. Dropping the photograph, she hurried to the entrance, ignoring Roderich's hiss of "Be _careful!"_ As soon as she reached it, Erzsébet pushed the trapdoor. The flap would not open. She pushed it again, harder this time, but it still refused to yield.

"What's wrong?" Gilbert asked.

"I think this might be stuck." Erzsébet shoved it with as much power as she could summon. "The hinge must be a bit rusty."

"Here, lemme have a go." Gilbert slammed into the flap with both hands, throwing every inch of his strength behind the attack. He sprang back a moment later, and rubbed his palms. "Crap, what's up with that thing?"

"Perhaps you ought to try pulling instead of pushing?" Roderich suggested.

Obediently, Gilbert grabbed the trapdoor bolt and yanked it hard. The action availed him no more than any of his previous attempts. "Fuck's sake…" He turned to Erzsébet frantically. "Why isn't it working?"

Erzsébet didn't answer, but swivelled around to kick the trapdoor with both feet. "Open up!"

All she managed to achieve from this was a sharp throb in her toes. Ignoring the pain, Erzsébet continued lashing out, Gilbert copying the action beside her. But no matter how hard they tried, neither Erzsébet's determination, nor the steely power of Gilbert's Doc Martins, nor either of them yelling themselves horse managed to shift the trapdoor a single inch. Panting, Erzsébet lowered her feet and gazed at the flap in despair.

She had to face it. They were trapped.

* * *

 _To be continued next week..._

* * *

 _Hungarian Rhapsody No.10 (Liszt): watch?v=NIoqkKErpSs_

 _I've had such lovely messages of support and feedback over the past week, for which I am naturally grateful. I can only hope that the story continues to shock and entertain._


	8. Chapter 8

"No!" shouted Gilbert. He pummelled his fists against the trapdoor, punctuating each hit with a wail. "No! No! No!"

"Don't waste your breath, Gilbert," Roderich murmured.

Gilbert whipped around. In all her life, Erzsébet didn't think she'd ever seen him look so afraid. "I don't get it. Seriously, someone tell me what's going on!"

"We've been locked in," Erzsébet said, "Someone must have found out that we're here, and now they're refusing to let us leave."

"Oh." Gilbert sunk down as if his body was deflating. "Well. That sucks."

This, Erzsébet thought, was a significant understatement. There was no other way out of the area; opening the trapdoor again had been their only means of escape. She gazed at the flap, running her hands against the unwavering wood. It was extremely frightening to think that someone had been outside, deliberately blocking their exist. For all she knew, they could still be there.

It took at least a minute for the crushing reality to fully settle in. Erzsébet listened to Roderich's shallow breaths and Gilbert's considerably more strained ones without a single clue what was supposed to happen next. The cramped space had suddenly turned dark, cold, insidious. Gilbert leaned back and hugged his knees to his chest. "So what do we do now?" he asked. He looked like a lost child, waiting for his parents to return.

Erzsébet shifted into a more comfortable position. "We stay here, probably. It can't be long before Ludwig comes looking for us."

"Or we take the initiative to contact him ourselves," Roderich said, "We still have technology, after all."

Gilbert perked up immediately. "Great idea, Specs! Come on, give me that crappy T-Mobile of yours."

Roderich fished the flip phone out of his inner coat pocket and handed it over without complaint. Gilbert punched in the number at top speed. A deathly silence hung over the area. The resounding _'bleep bleep'_ of the phone ringing drilled into Erzsébet's ears, each one sounding increasingly ominous and increasingly desperate.

Finally, Gilbert lowered the phone. "He's not picking up."

"Excuse me?" Roderich said, "Ludwig _always_ picks up."

"Yeah, does this thing actually work?" asked Gilbert. He coughed slightly. "It's so ancient that Napoleon would probably, _kof,_ probably consider it an artefact."

"It was working perfectly well when I called twenty minutes ago, thank you very much."

"Unless Ludwig is with Feliciano," Erzsébet said, remembering suddenly, "Feli told me that he sometimes secretly turns Ludwig's phone off when they're together."

"Does he indeed? How very impertinent," said Roderich.

Gilbert chuckled. "Hehe, that sneaky little bastard. Ludi doesn't, _kof kof,_ doesn't know how lucky he is to have him, he really— " His sentence ended with a fit of abrupt, choking coughs.

Erzsébet felt a pang of alarm. "Are you alright?"

"Fine, fine. One, _kof,_ teeny cough isn't going to, _kof_ _kof,_ isn't going to do the awesome me in."

"How about calling someone else?" Roderich suggested, "I'm certain that I have Antonio's number saved on there somewhere."

"I'll take a look." Gilbert flicked his thumb over the keypad to search, then suddenly doubled over. The phone slipped from his hand as he erupted into another spate of coughing.

Both Erzsébet and Roderich were by his side in an instant. "Gilbert! What the hell's wrong?"

"It's— it's— " Gilbert couldn't even speak as he was overcome with breathy wheezes, and clung onto Roderich's shoulder for support. Only then did Erzsébet notice the distinct hissing sound coming from the trapdoor. She flattened her head against the wood to investigate. The smell was overpowering— a bitter amalgamation of ashes, musk and sulphur. Worse still, it was horrifyingly recognisable. Erzsébet drew back, eyes watering.

"It's gas! It's the gas we use for Lars' performances."

"Oh _Christ_." Roderich moaned. He shook his cousin's arm desperately. "Cover your mouth, Gilbert, for goodness sake!"

Gilbert buried his face into his t-shirt, gasping and spluttering for all he was worth. His eyes were screwed up tightly, but tears squeezed out and poured over his cheeks.

"Erzsébet, we _have_ to get him out of here!" Roderich shouted.

That much was obvious. The only difficulty was working out how. Erzsébet gave the trapdoor a half-hearted shove but— as she'd expected— it still wouldn't budge. She glanced around the rest of the area in a frenzied panic, praying against all hope for another exit to spontaneously manifest. Her nerves had grown taunt, her ears were ringing, and her head felt so light that she could barely even think. "What the hell am I supposed to do now?" she cried.

"The beams!" Roderich said, "Try opening the beams!"

Erzsébetlet out a gasp of relief. _Of course_. She reached up with both hands to push against the wood. Pine. Thick planks. Very securely made. While Erzsébet was no expert on the consistency of materials, she knew enough to realise that these would not break in a hurry. "They're too strong to lift up. I'll have to smash them open somehow," she said.

Roderich glanced towards the boxes. "Is there something you can use among the storage? Something that would suffice as a weapon?"

For a moment, Erzsébet's mind went blank. Everything was happening so quickly, and with such an awful, pounding fear that even her thoughts were chaotic. But then, a miraculous stroke of inspiration flashed through her brain. Without wasting a second, Erzsébet hastened over to the box containing kitchen equipment and withdrew the huge frying pan that had toppled out earlier. "Will this be alright?"

Roderich nodded hurriedly. "Do it!"

Erzsébet did not need telling twice. She took a second to offer a silent apology to Ludwig before lifting the pan and smashing it upwards with all the force she could muster.

 _Snap!_

The first blow caused a deep fissure in one of the beams. Erzsébet followed it up with a couple more hard strikes, shattering the beam completely in two. Chips and splinters of wood scattered everywhere as the light poured in from above.

"Erzsébet, _hurry!"_ Roderich cried. The smoke was growing thicker by the minute, almost enough to make Erzsébet gag herself. Gilbert flailed around in Roderich's arms like a fish out of water, taking deep, grating breaths. His face had turned bright red under the strain.

Desperately, Erzsébet whacked the frying pan into an adjacent cluster of beams. Her attack barely left an impression. She could have screamed in frustration, but she suppressed the urge, and struck again with fresh vigour. The wood split this time, yet it still did not break. Behind her, Erzsébet could hear Gilbert clucking dryly. Her heart palpitated as she renewed the clumsy assault. Time went on fast-forward, the urgency disorientating, and she wielded her weapon until her arms became sore from the strain. The continuous pounding of metal on wood created a rhythm akin to a clamouring death knoll. Roderich was still talking to Gilbert; still pleading. His voice seemed to come from very far away. In time, the words became replaced with a terrible sucking and gasping sound, like an attempted resuscitation. Erzsébet didn't want to think about it. The air around her felt fuzzy; the world was a spinning, muddled blur. But as she smashed the frying pan upwards, she could sense the wood weakening with every blow. Erzsébet threw her strength behind one last slam, and it finally gave way with a thunderous crack.

"Oh my!" Roderich said, "You did it!"

Erzsébet squinted through another shower of wooden fragments. She'd made a rough job of it, but there was a hole there, however jagged around the edges. Clearing a couple of dangling plank remains, she clambered through and pulled herself up onto the stage. Her legs were numb from kneeling and almost collapsed underneath her. She thrust her hands back through the gap. "Get him up here, quick!"

Roderich obeyed, straining to transfer the top half of Gilbert's body into her arms. Erzsébet grabbed Gilbert by the shoulders and hauled him through, leaving him to collapse in a drooping, gasping heap beside her. She lowered a hand again to help Roderich. His dainty fingers clasped hers as he scrambled out.

The three of them lay on stage, all sweating and breathing heavily. Erzsébet didn't think she'd ever tasted air so fresh or so wonderful in all her life. The world had stopped spinning, and she no longer felt hot or panicked. Everything was still. But her respite did not last long, as the hissing sound continued to whistle in her ears. Dragging herself up, Erzsébet spotted the heavy smoke machine blocking and feeding into the entrance. She hurried over and flicked off the power switch at the top.

"Narrow escape, don't you think?" she said, turning to the others. But Roderich only had eyes for one person.

" _Gilbert_." He lumbered towards his cousin on all fours, lifting his head off the floor. "Wake up! Wake up, you fool!"

Gilbert gave a reedy cough in reply. His eyes were still closed, but Erzsébet could see his throat muscles convulsing and his chest battling to breathe. His nails scraped at his neck, as if attempting to rip it open. Terror flooded her. She was not convinced that this was a fight Gilbert was going to win.

"I'll go and get his inhaler!" Erzsébet said, standing up and leaping off the stage. Then, as and afterthought, she turned back to Roderich. "He will be alright, you know. Our Gilbert is a fighter."

Roderich nodded vaguely. He was not even looking in her direction.

…

Erzsébet ran the whole way back to Ludwig's tent, not breaking her pace once. When she staggered into the sleeping area, panting and gasping, it came as no surprise that Ludwig was cuddling with Feliciano. They both looked up questioningly as she burst in, but Erzsébet knew there wasn't time to explain. She snatched up the inhaler from Gilbert's pillow, mumbled something about him choking as a means of explanation, and tore straight out again.

The leaves crunched underneath Erzsébet's feet as she sprinted through the field. The wind howled around her, rattling into her bones. Erzsébet did not even notice. She was too numb, too dazed to feel anything but anxious determination. Halfway to the Big Top, Ludwig caught up with her. "What's happened to Gilbert? Is he okay?" he asked, grabbing her by the shoulder. Erzsébet shook away from his grip and carried on running. Each breath tore brokenly at the back of her throat, and the backs of her eyes began to grow dizzy. Still, her only thoughts were of Gilbert. Gilbert, who was in serious danger. Gilbert, who might already be beyond saving.

Erzsébet finally spotted his body lying unmoving a little way from the Big Top. Her blood turned cold in her veins. She wondered vaguely what he was doing outside, then deduced that Roderich must have carried him somehow. However, as she drew closer she saw that it wasn't Roderich who knelt by Gilbert's side and held his head upright. It was Antonio.

" _Ay,_ you came!" Antonio said as Erzsébet and Ludwig crashed down next to him. He brushed his dark curls out of his eyes. "Gil's alive, don't worry, but he's in a bad way. Luckily I had enough credit on my phone to call the ambulance."

Erzsébet wondered if she should tell Antonio that it was free to call the emergency services, but there were more pressing matters at hand. Catching her breath, she thrust Ludwig the inhaler. Ludwig eased it into his brother's mouth. "Gilbert, can you hear me?" He squeezed down the canister to release Gilbert's dose. "Stay strong, you're going to be fine. Just fine."

"I was on the way back from Belle's place when I found him," Antonio said to Erzsébet, "I could hear Roderich crying for help, so I went into the Big Top and we carried Gil outside."

"And where's Roderich now?" Erzsébet asked.

"He fainted. Trauma, I think. I moved him over there," he said, cocking his head in the direction of the Vargas tepee, "It's unoccupied at the moment."

At that moment, Gilbert's chest jerked with a volley of powerful coughs. Everyone tensed, turning towards him and watching with bated breath. For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then, Gilbert finally breathed in. It was a deep, gasping sound, like someone coming up for air after a long dive. Erzsébet could have cried with relief.

"Gilbert?" Ludwig lifted him up to sitting position. "Are you awake? Are you there?"

Gilbert's eyelids fluttered open. His eyes were bloodshot and slightly unfocused as they scanned Ludwig's face. "Haha, Ludi," he said vacantly, "Can't keep the— th'awesome me out f' long."

Then his body swayed and he collapsed forward into his brother's arms.

The ambulance arrived at the circus a couple of minutes later. A group of paramedics hurried out to examine Gilbert's unconscious body, before carting him off on a stretcher to treat at Munich. He was wearing oxygen mask that made him look inhuman, and amplified his ragged breaths for everyone to hear. It was all painfully unnerving, but the paramedics reassured Erzsébet that Gilbert would almost certainly recover. While the news came as a comfort to her, Ludwig still refused point-blank to leave his brother's side. In the end, he was granted the request to accompany them to the hospital. Erzsébet watched the brothers as they departed; Gilbert resting limply on the stretcher and Ludwig hastening behind with his head bowed. A complicated mixture of worry and guilt bubbled in the pit of her stomach.

"I don't think I've ever seen Ludwig in this much of a panic before," Antonio said thoughtfully, "He's usually so calm about these things."

"You can hardly blame him, can you?" Erzsébet said. She drew a sleeve across her brow, discovering it to be clammy with exertion. All of a sudden, the shock and surreality of what had happened sunk in, and she let out a burst of hysterical laughter. "Do you know, someone just tried to kill all three of us?"

Antonio's jaw dropped. _"Qué chingados!_ Erzsébet, why the hell didn't you tell me this before?"

"It only happened a few minutes ago."

" _Ay… Dios Mio…"_ Antonio shook his head, looking almost unable to comprehend. "Was it— was it the same murderer as before?"

"I don't know," said Erzsébet. As she cast her mind over the incident, the bubbling in her stomach intensified. She was the one who insisted on exploring the entrance. It only occurred to her now just what a thoughtless thing she had done. "But what I _do_ know is that it's my fault Gilbert's lying in a stretcher. I did it. I led him into danger, and anything that happens to him now is because of me."

"Hey, don't beat yourself up about it," Antonio said, patting her on the shoulder, "Whatever you did together probably wasn't anyone's fault at all. You're just blaming yourself because it's easy."

Erzsébet blinked, fighting the rising urge to sob. "Wh— what do you mean?"

"I mean that people always want a cause upon which to focus their anger. Often there's no real cause at all, but they still do it. Human nature." Antonio stood up, brushing the grass from his knees. "Do you think we should check on Roderich now? He might have come round."

"Yeah… yeah, of course…" Ignoring her trembling limbs, Erzsébet staggered to her feet. A wave of nausea lurched inside. She swallowed it back, and took a deep breath to compose herself. It was all over now. In a few hours, the entire traumatic experience would be no more than a blip in her memory. And yet, as she followed Antonio with slow, deliberate steps, Erzsébet realised that still did not feel safe. She didn't even think she could explain why. Searching for a distraction, she turned to Antonio.

"You said the tepee was empty?"

"That's right. The Vargas' must be out somewhere."

Erzsébet frowned. She knew that Feliciano had been with Ludwig, but couldn't think why the others would have a reason to be away. "So where have—?"

But her sentence met an abrupt end. A deafening bang ripped through the air behind them, drowning out all other noise. Antonio swore loudly; Erzsébet had to bite her tongue to smother a scream. Panic jerked down her spine like a whiplash. For a second, she felt herself rooted to the spot as the blast echoed against her eardrums. Then she wheeled around, stumbling as she did so.

Antonio caught her elbow to prevent her from falling. His eyes were wide and fearful. "Was that another…?"

"No." Erzsébet whispered. That wasn't the crack of a gunshot, it was something else. Something louder, more powerful, and infinitely more destructive. _Oh fuck…_

Without a second thought, she dashed back towards the Big Top. Antonio ran alongside her. A distinct burning scent gagged them before they even reached the entrance, and billowing smoke stung their eyes. As Erzsébet charged inside, the atmosphere suddenly grew hot and close; sweltering like a midsummer afternoon. Yet even through the heat, even through the watery blur of tears, she could see very clearly what had happened.

The stage had been set alight. Cracking flames conquered the woodwork, flickering like dancing spirits. Embers shot upwards with loud, sporadic snaps, while the slow release of smoke gradually clouded the room. The fire was almost too bright to look at, but Erzsébet shielded her eyes to catch a glimpse of the stage. Ludwig's secure pine planks were blackening; charring to an unidentifiable crisp under the heat of the flames. Nothing underneath would have a chance of survival.

Coughing slightly, she turned to Antonio. "You don't have enough credit left to call the fire brigade, do you?"

* * *

 _To be continued next week..._

* * *

 _Hopefully the chapter was dramatic enough to sustain interest despite the comparatively shorter_ _length. Next chapter will return to standard word count again._

 _Also, while it may seem a little repetitive to say this every week, I still value this regular support from readers so, so much. :D_


	9. Chapter 9

Gilbert was released from hospital later that day. His recovery from the asthma attack had been mercifully swift, although both he and Ludwig were shaken for some time after the ordeal. In response to the assault, the local _Polizei_ presence doubled over the following week. There were more searches, more interrogations, and it quickly became impossible to go anywhere on the circus grounds without bumping into a _Kripo_ officer. Yet in spite of this, the only real change to Erzsébet's life was that she had now developed a perpetual sense of dread. The feeling loitered inside like a tensed muscle. It was never oppressive enough to drive her to insanity, but it was still with her every hour of the day. Whenever Erzsébet awoke each morning, it was not only longing for Feliks that racked her mind, but also the uneasy relief that she herself had not yet breathed her last.

Not a single relic from the hidden lair had endured the blazes. The fire brigade had managed to prevent the flames spreading across the Big Top, but the entire stage was incinerated— along with everything underneath. Erzsébet scouted the area later that day. Picking through the charred, waterlogged wood was a deeply frustrating experinece. She wasn't sure whether the lair or the fire were linked to Feliks' death, but now it would be impossible to establish a connection. There was little that the police could do either. After some extensive tests, the Forensics team concluded that a basic Molotov cocktail had been the cause of the fire— an announcement that only resulted in further confusion. After all, it was a simple weapon to create. Almost anyone could be capable of doing so.

However, there remained one silver lining to the tedious week that followed. With most of the officialdom complete, Erzsébet had the perfect opportunity to mend her friendship with Gilbert. They took to spending periods of their free time together, sometimes playing games, sometimes just talking. Occasionally Gilbert's disgruntled relatives joined them, which usually lead to loud bickering sessions. Erzsébet avoided talking about the fire incident at first. She tried to convince herself that it was out of respect for Gilbert's feelings, yet there was a niggling sense of guilt in her stomach that told her otherwise. It was not until the following Thursday, during a co-operative session of _CoD: Zombies,_ that Erzsébet finally decided to broach the subject.

"About last week," she started, "It… it was really stupid of me to lead you through that trapdoor. I should have realised how dangerous it was, and I'm so sorry."

But Gilbert just chuckled as he blasted another zombie. "Cut the martyrdom crap, Erzsi, it doesn't suit you. You know damn well that I wanted to explore the place as much as you did."

"But what if I'd—?"

"If you'd tried to make me get my inhaler, there's no way in hell I'd have gone back and left you to have all the fun," said Gilbert, "Look, fact of the matter is, wimpy little Roder-dick was right for once in his life. But, hey, how can you blame us for not listening?"

"You've really got to stop calling him that," Erzsébet said, gritting her teeth, "I don't think it's fair."

Gilbert tapped the controller, attempting to nail a few planks of wood across a broken window. "Well you know what _I_ think? I think it's kind of suspicious how you keep trying to defend him all the time…"

"I am _not_ defending him!"

"Whatever. It's still suspicious."

To vent her feelings, Erzsébet lobbed a grenade through a gap in Gilbert's makeshift bulwark. It exploded on the opposite side, sending a shower of blood and dead zombies flying across the screen. Gilbert turned to her with vaguely impressed air. "Nice. You're getting better at this."

"Thanks."

"Still not as good as the awesome me, though."

"What a surprise."

They continued playing in silence, frantically shooting while the zombies shuffled ever closer. At length, Gilbert spoke again, "You decided on an Oktoberfest costume yet?"

Erzsébet was hit with a pang of recollection. With everything else going on at the moment, she had almost forgotten about the approaching festival. "Are we still planning to attend?" she asked.

"Sure we are," Gilbert said, "Or at least, I definitely am. Come Saturday, I'll be wearing Lederhosen, eating potato salad and chugging a shitload of beer, and there's nothing you can do to stop me!"

Erzsébet switched her shotgun for a close-combat knife as the zombies drew in. "You do know that Lederhosen is Bavarian, don't you?"

"Yeah. What about it?"

"That's hardly Prussian, is it?"

"Everything can be Prussian if you believe it, baby!" Gilbert said, firing a torrent of bullets into the impending enemy mass, "Anyway, it's— Erzsi! On your left!"

Erzsébet swivelled her camera around and stabbed the zombie just in time. "Thanks."

"'Course, Ludi's gonna have to wear Lederhosen too," Gilbert continued, "He can't back out of tradition!"

"I bet Feliciano would like that."

"Hehe, that cutie!" said Gilbert, "Ludwig's lucky I'm as straight as an arrow or I'd be stealing little Felikins for— ah, shit."

The zombies had finally broken through their defences. Two of them grabbed Gilbert's character and bit him in the head, causing a spurt of blood to leap out onto the screen. Erzsébet continued firing in vain until the crowd overwhelmed her, and she succumbed to the same fate.

"Fritz's balls, that's tough!" Gilbert said, lowering his controller as the _Game Over_ music began, "How about another round?"

Erzsébet shook her head. "Sorry, I have to get going. It's my turn to go to the supermarket." She placed the controller on the bed and started to stand up.

Suddenly, Gilbert reached out and grabbed her arm. "Wait! Before you go, there's— there's something I wanted to ask," he said, "You… you don't think it could work again, do you?"

"Could what work again?" Erzsébet asked.

"You know…" Gilbert's face burned crimson. "You and me. Together."

"Oh. Oh Gilbert…" Erzsébet pulled out of his grip gently and took his hands in hers. "I think it'd best if that stays in the past now. I _do_ still love you, but not in the same way."

"Right. Platonic love. Got it." Gilbert said. His reddened cheeks were rapidly draining of colour.

"Is that okay with you?" Erzsébet said uncertainly.

Gilbert's nod was a little too quick to be believable. "'Course it is! Friends, yeah! Who wouldn't want to be friends with someone as cool as me? Haha!"

He was grinning ear to ear but Erzsébet had never seen anyone look so sad. Before letting go of his hands, she gave them a comforting squeeze. "Goodbye, Gil. I'll see you later on."

She had almost reached the entrance when she heard Gilbert's voice again, "Hey, Erzsi? Just promise me you won't fall for the priss, alright?"

Erzsébet's heart jolted. Suddenly, the back of her mouth was starting to feel extremely dry. She pretended not to hear Gilbert as she hurried out of the room.

…

Erzsébet chewed her lip indecisively as she scanned Aldi's shelves. Ludwig had explicitly told her not to buy any pasta, worrying about the lack of variety in Feliciano's diet, but she knew she wouldn't be able to resist. Feli had almost been in tears when he told her he was running out. She added two bags of macaroni to her basket and balanced it on her knee as she consulted the shopping list. Just Lars' Edam to pick up, then that was the lot. She couldn't find any chorizo for Antonio but she had located Alfred's pancake mix, as well as plenty of crisps, Haribos, and mini pretzels at Gilbert's request.

 _Gilbert._ As she walked to the dairy aisle, the thought of his parting words returned to her. _"Just promise me you won't fall for the priss, alright."_ Erzsébet gritted her teeth. How dare he be such an annoying, presumptuous douchenozzle? Did he think she was secretly in love with Roderich or something? The idea was so ludicrous that Erzsébet couldn't even bring herself to feel offended. Yes, Roderich might be nice to look at, but he was also off-limits; her tarot cards had made sure of that. Simply looking at him _was_ probably the most she could do, and that suited her just fine. But then Erzsébet's thoughts turned— turned to Roderich's haughty eyes, his low, refined voice, and the silken brush of his skin. Her spine flushed with traitorous heat, and she renewed her grip on the shopping basket. Best to keep her mind away from such dangerous fantasies.

When Erzsébet rounded the corner, there were only two other people in the dairy aisle. One was a teenage girl wearing a dress more suitable for a seven-year-old. The other was man in a white beret. Erzsébet couldn't shake off the feeling that she had seen them both before, although she had no clue as to where. She watched as the man stooped to pick up a block of elemental cheese, and offered it to the girl. "Here, is this one alright for you?"

His companion nodded, a little dejectedly. "It's… fine."

"Look, I know it's the cheap one, but it's actually a lot soften than the others and much easier to—"

"Vash, you know that's not what's bothering me at all," the girl said.

Vash gave a long sigh. "I've told you, I have business on Saturday," he growled, "I can't be with you for dinner, as much as I want to be."

"Well, I could always come with you."

"No you can't!" said Vash, his voice almost rising to a shout, "I'm not having some filthy drunk man touching my sister, getting ideas…"

"Excuse me?" Erzsébet said.

Both Vash and his sister turned. Erzsébet suddenly recognised the girl's purple ribbon and the man's jagged strands of blond hair. They were the same visitors who had come to the circus over a week ago: Lilli and her older brother. Vash's eyes narrowed, "What? What do you want?"

"Nothing, you're just in the way of the cheese, that's all," Erzsébet said.

"Oh, right." Vash stepped aside, blushing.

Thanking him, Erzsébet pretended to inspect the produce while watching the two of them from the corner of her eye. Vash dropped the elemental cheese into the basket before leading his sister away. They walked back down the aisle together, Vash looping one arm around her waist. They could have been any ordinary brother and sister on an ordinary shopping trip but Erzsébet wasn't so sure. One look into Vash's basket had been enough to make her think otherwise. How many ordinary young men bought ammunition on a shopping trip?

Erzsébet glanced back at the siblings as they disappeared around another aisle. Lilli and her older brother. Her grumpy, 'freakin' good shot' older brother. Her older brother who had left the audience before Alfred's performance. The chill that ran through her was not entirely due to the cold of the supermarket fridge.

...

After a long a fruitless week, everyone in the circus was relieved when the weekend arrived. Gilbert had been talking about Oktoberfest non-stop, simultaneously annoying everybody and spreading a contagious sense of fun around the troupe. On Saturday afternoon, Erzsébet was not surprised when the party travelling to Munich numbered eight. Sebastiano had unexpectedly taken ill, while the van Rjin siblings claimed that Luca was too young and decided to stay behind. Everyone else, however, had apparently been taken in by Gilbert's obnoxious enthusiasm, and signed up.

The sun was setting when the group made it to the station. By the time their train arrived at Munich, it was already growing dark. Yet, as Erzsébet walked up from the U-bahn, she didn't think she had ever seen the city more alive. The streets were still swarming with people, most at least slightly intoxicated, while the drum of nearby music sounded constantly. As they came closer to the city centre, flashing lights and colours began to appear, illuminating the spectacle before their eyes.

"Hey, Ludwig, Ludwig! Look at that," Feliciano said. He took one hand off Ludwig's arm and pointed excitedly to a towering structure. There was a mechanism attached to top that swayed from side to side at alarming angles. "Is that a fairground ride?"

"Yes. I believe that one is called a frisbee carousel," Ludwig said, adjusting his Tyrolean hat.

"Ve~ I didn't know that there were going to be rides at Oktoberfest! Can we go on them, please please please?"

Ludwig visibly paled. "I—I suppose I can take you on the Ferris Wheel if you like."

"But I want to go on the exciting ones!"

"Ooh! Can I come too?" Alfred said.

Gilbert flashed his brother a teasing grin and clapped him on the shoulder. "Heh, bad luck there, Ludi!"

Ludwig sighed and shoved a hand into the pocket of his Lederhosen, resigned to his fate.

Erzsébet struggled to stay focused as they walked. The sights of the approaching festival were magnificent, but it was the man walking beside her who truly commanded her attention. Like his cousins, Roderich had opted to wear a traditional Bavarian costume. Unlike his cousins, however, his outfit was absolutely ridiculous. The shirt he was wearing had frills on the cuffs, while his breeches were not brown, but bright purple, and far, far smaller than they ought to be. Erzsébet was almost incapable of looking away from his legs; trying to convince herself that this was only because he looked so absurd. As a distraction, she focused hard on the conversation behind her.

"God, I hope they've got proper alcohol at this stupid festival," Lovino was muttering to Antonio, "Something other than that disgusting Kraut-bastard beer."

"Lovi, that's not nice!"

"Well it's true, isn't it? It's like drinking piss!"

Erzsébet knew by now that it was pointless to respond to Lovino's remarks. He said most of them out of grumpiness, or to provoke a reaction. Roderich, however, did not seem to have learnt this yet. He turned and spoke to Lovino curtly. "If you find beer so repulsive, you should not have bought a train ticket, you fool."

Lovino's expression grew steadily sulkier. "Why do _you_ even care? Leave me the hell alone!"

"Oh, I can't say that I do care especially," said Roderich, "Only I _believe_ you had your money stolen recently, did you not?"

"Yeah, and that wasn't my damn fault! _Tch,_ anyway, it's obvious that the only reason I came is because—" Lovino stopped abruptly. His ears turned a delicate shade of red, which gradually spread to his cheeks.

All of a sudden, Erzsébet discovered that she was interested. "Yes?" she prompted.

"Because— because of all the sexy women there, of course! Yeah, it's just going to be one big night of flirting with the _bellas_ for me."

Roderich turned back, shaking his head. "What a terribly uncouth young man." he said, not bothering to low his voice.

Erzsébet bit her lip in response. Lovino could say all he liked about flirting, but as long as he was as uneasy to form a response as he was then, she wasn't convinced.

Ludwig led the group down a series of increasingly busy streets before they arrived at the _Wisen,_ the field upon which Oktoberfest was located. Although Erzsébet had been before, she was still stunned by the sheer size of the event. Even in the dusk, she could make out row upon row of tents stretching as far as the eye could see, and a vast crowd of what had to be hundreds— no, _thousands_ — of people. The blast of noise was deafening; different tunes from different tents clashing horribly, mingled with constant shouting. Roderich gave a pronounced shudder.

Feliciano detached from the group almost immediately, dragging Ludwig off towards a roller coaster with red neon lights dancing down the sides. Alfred made to follow, but Erzsébet caught his arm just in time and flashed him a look of warning.

"See ya, Ludikins! Good luck!" Gilbert called after them. Then he turned back to the rest of the group with a manic grin on his face, "So, how about us super cool singles show that we can have a good time too? Who's up for some awesome?"

Erzsébet raised her eyebrows. She had too much experience of Gilbert's idea of a night out drinking to know that, more often than not, 'awesome' just translated into 'painful and humiliating'. "Now why aren't I feeling so enthused about this idea?" she said.

"Awww, come on! I know just the place to go. Follow me! Oh, and Specs, keep close and _try_ not to get your prissy ass lost this time."

They followed Gilbert as in a half-jog, half-slalom through the crowd. Eventually, he dragged them into a large tent with a Lowenbrau crest on top of the roof. There was only one room inside; a vast hall packed with benches, long tables and what seemed like even more people than outside. Several enormous green wreaths hung from the red, white and green striped ceiling.

"See? Perfect place," said Gilbert.

Erzsébet gave the overcrowded hall a long look over. "Gil, your sense of perfection really doesn't take space into account."

"Hey, we'll get a table, it's super easy! Look, there's loads of room over there," He nodded to bench on the far right, where there were a few empty spaces next to a group of women. "Hold on, I'm going it!"

"God help us." Roderich said as his cousin approached the table. Erzsébet watched on from a distance. Gilbert seemed to be attempting, rather fruitlessly, to engage the women in conversation by doing a weird sort of bounce up and down.

Lovino snorted. "And you used to _date_ that loser!"

"Don't remind me," said Erzsébet.

A minute later, Gilbert returned, looking punch-drunk.

"Let me guess," Roderich said smugly, "Were you by any chance rejected?"

Gilbert scratched the back of his head, "Hahahaha, 'course not! They— they said they were saving the spaces for someone else."

"And that, Gilbert, is because you are a boorish, egotistic, obnoxious fool who, quite frankly, looks far too drunk for his own good already."

"Well that just proves how delusional you are, because nobody can resist the aweso— hey, where are you going?"

Lovino had turned sideways, attempting to manoeuvre himself through a minuscule gap between two benches. He looked back towards Gilbert to reply, "I'm showing you sausage-brained jerk how it's done!"

"Whaa—?"

Lovino ignored him and continued pushing his way through until he managed to accost a passing waitress wearing a dirndl. They were well out of earshot, but Erzsébet could see him talking to her— wearing a smile much more charming and handsome than she'd believed possible from him.

"Wait for it… wait for it…" said Antonio.

After about twenty seconds, the waitress nodded and started directing Lovino towards a free bench. Lovino turned his head back, winked, and signalled for them to follow. Antonio gave him a double thumbs-up.

Lovino was waiting by the bench for them to catch up. There was an extremely smug smile on his face. "How d'you like them apples? 'Uncouth' my ass! Oh, sorry Erzsébet."

Gilbert fished his wallet out of his breeches pocket and fumbled around inside for a note. "Here, this should cover it, although you'll all have to pay me back later." He thrust it at the waitress. "We'll have five Lowenbraus, and five awesome potato salads, please!"

" _Four_ salads!" Lovino shouted after the waitress as she left. He looked at Gilbert with an expression of contempt. " _Potato salad_? Who the fu— hell eats that kind of muck?"

"You don't know what you're missing, pizza boy! It's hot and buttery and super tasty and it melts in your mouth. Besides, if you're going to pick a fight with us Germans over our awesome food, you're kinda outnumbered here."

Within a couple of minutes, the waitress returned with five mugs full the brim with the frothiest beer Erzsébet had ever seen, as well as promises that their food was on its way. Alfred grabbed his immediately and went to take a sip but Gilbert pushed his hand down. Beer sloshed on the surface of the table. "Bad Alfred! Don't you know that it's seriously important to have a toast first?"

Erzsébet rolled her eyes. Didn't he ever learn? "I'm Hungarian, Gil, you know I don't do that. 1848, remember?"

"Awww, just this once! An awesome toast for an awesome event." Gilbert said and cleared his throat, "Dear friends, you may be foreigners, but you all find yourselves about to engage in the most awesome of German traditions; getting stupidly drunk, doing crazy things you're bound to regret later and waking up with a fatal headache." He raised his mug with a grin. "Who knows what'll happen, but it's bound to be one hell of a killer night! _Prost!_ "

…

Erzsébet was _not_ drunk.

It was true that she had consumed a variety of alcoholic beverages and that everything suddenly seemed a lot funnier than usual, but that wasn't the same as straight-up inebriation! The way she felt— there was a word for it, she was sure— was… tipsy. Or was it 'sipty'? After a little pondering, Erzsébet decided that it didn't really matter, and took another draught of her Kiss of Fire.

The past three hours or so were reduced to a blurry haze in her mind; a consecutive visit to tent after tent whilst growing gradually more intoxicated. Somewhere along the way, Lovino and Antonio managed to escape to the Wine hall, despite being branded by Gilbert as 'traitors to the circus'. In the quieter _Schiebl's Kaffeehaferl_ tent, Roderich stared a heated argument with a stranger over Hitler's nationality. Erzsébet was a bit too giggly by then to catch the finer points of the discussion, but she distinctly remembered that it culminated with Alfred slamming his mug on the table and declaring that it made no difference whether he was Austrian or German because the American heroes beat 'all you dumb Krauts' anyway.

By the time they arrived at their final destination, Alfred was nursing a black eye and Erzsébet was starting to find it increasingly difficult to walk in a straight line. The atmosphere inside _Bodo's Cafezelt_ was enticingly lively, with dim, twinkling lights, blaring music and, for some strange reason, toy bees hanging from the low ceiling. Instead of beer, the bar at the front served all manner of exotic cocktails. At one point, Ludwig and Feliciano arrived to join them, armed with pictures on Ludwig's phone that some Swiss man had been kind enough to take while they went on the dodgems. Feliciano enthusiastically recounted stories of their various ride-related adventures and Erzsébet pretended to listen, although the music was drowning out his voice. She couldn't tell whether Feli was actually drunk himself or just very hyper. Ludwig looked a little worse for the wear from his experiences, though he cheered up considerably after a few cocktails.

It was sometime after Erzsébet's second drink (or was it the third?) when she noticed with a jolt that Roderich was missing. Alfred revealed that he'd seem him slip out of the back exit a few minutes before, without saying goodbye to anyone. Erzsébet registered the information impassively, trying to ignore the sinking disappointment in her stomach. Of course Roderich was going to tire of spending time with useless, drunk commoners. Of course he had better things to do by himself. It was no big deal. Or if it was, it wouldn't be after another Vodka Martini.

 _Tipsy._ Erzsébettried saying the word out loud a few times and ended up snorting with laughter. Really, it was no wonder that her friends had decided to partake in this wonderful tipsiness too. Alfred had found an entranced audience and was busy doing celebrity impressions. Gilbert was leaping up and down while shouting random lyrics at the top of his voice. Ludwig and Feliciano were seated on chairs next to her, playing some sort of drinking game which involved saying the words 'fuzzy duck' until one of them made a mistake and downed a shot as a forfeit. Erzsébet leaned back in her seat and sipped her drink.

"See, Roderich?" she mumbled to nobody in particular, "We don't need you here at all!"

"Fuzzy du— wait…" Ludwig stopped mid-sentence and stared at her in confusion. "What has Roderich done _now_?"

"Ludwiiiig! You lost again!" Feliciano said, pushing a glass of Jaegermeister into Ludwig's hand, "Drink up!"

Erzsébet waited for Ludwig to knock back the shot before replying, "He's gone because he doesn't like us. He— he wants to spend time drinking with other fluffy cloths and pianos and… Austrian things." She suppressed a hiccup. Did all of that make sense? It sounded like it made sense in her head.

"It's more likely that he's got himself lost," Ludwig said. He looked supremely unconcerned about the prospect. "There's really no need to upset yourself, he'll turn up."

"I am _not_ upset!"

"Veee~ _I_ know why you why you're getting so worked up about this," Feliciano said with a wink. Then, to her horror, he broke into song, " _When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie that's amore!"_

Erzsébet could feel the colour rising steadily to her cheeks. "Feli! Shut up! It's— it's not like that!"

But Feliciano only sang louder still, _"When the world seems to shine like you've had too much wine that's amooooreee!"_

"Yes, I think you probably _have_ had too much wine," Ludwig said, mercifully interrupting, "Or too much Jaegermeister or… something."

"You've been drinking a lot more than me! You had all that beer earlier and you lost most of the rounds and—"

"Feliciano, unlike you I can hold my locker. I— I mean, licker. No, hold on, I mean—"

Feliciano silenced him with a kiss to his forehead. "Vee~ silly Ludwig. I know what you mean."

Erzsébet frowned. Maybe Ludwig had been right and Roderich really _was_ lost. Maybe he'd be back any moment, apologising profusely in that awkward, courteous way he had. Just then, the door opened and her heart leapt, but of course, it wasn't Roderich at all. In fact, it was someone entirely different.

Ludwig gave her a nudge. "Isn't that Officer Kølher over there?"

Erzsébet nodded, although it was not technically true. Mathias Kølher hadn't come alone; he'd brought his _business_ partner. And to put the icing on the cake— Erzsébet almost spilt the rest of her Kiss of Fire upon realising— _they were holding hands!_

It didn't take long for the officers to notice Feliciano's enthusiastic waving and saunter over to their table. Lukas immediately let go of Mathias' hand before they approached and shoved it in the pocket of his jeans.

"Well, well, well, we meet again," said Mathias. He was dressed strikingly, in lurid red trousers and a shirt underneath his coat that read _'Take a Liking to a Viking'_. "Ya don't expect to see yer clients on a night out, somehow."

"Shouldn't you two be on a shift right now?" asked Ludwig.

"Nah, we got the night off! Gave me a chance to actually put my dating plans into practice!" He looped his arm around Lukas' shoulder, looking exceptionally pleased with himself.

"Congratulations!" Erzsébet said, and began rooting for her camera. Once found, she snapped a picture surreptitiously before anyone could object.

Lukas fixed Mathias with an icy glare. "This. Is. _Not_. A. Date."

"Awwww, but Lukas, ya agreed that it was!'

Lukas shrugged Mathias' arm off. "I'm going to hit the bar."

And with that, he left. An instant later, his replacement arrived in the form of a sweaty, excitable and extremely intoxicated Gilbert. Somehow, he had managed to extract a toy bee from the ceiling and was carrying it underneath his arm. "Yo, people! What's the problem, am I going to be arrested?" He burst into raucous laughter.

"You might be if you don't put that bee back," Ludwig said, "How much did you have to drink, exactly?"

Gilbert waved his hand dismissively. "Us Germans are awesome at holding our lacker, everyone knows that. Better than the Scandinavian lot! I bet even if I was doing something illegal, they'd be so super drunk that they wouldn't be able to arrest me anyway."

"I'd be offended by that if it wasn't actually true," Mathias said with a chuckle, "But I guess it's understandable since our beer is so much better than yers."

Gilbert's eyes gleamed. "Best for your ancestors to have _something_ to drown their sorrows when they lost all that Schleswig territory to the awesome might of Prussia!"

"Oooo, insulting my ancestors, are we? It's on!" Mathias tore off his coat and threw it down on an unoccupied chair. He began rolling up his shirtsleeves, sizing Gilbert up, "Not only am I a Viking, but I'm a Viking on a date too! There's only one way to settle this," He stared Gilbert straight in the eye. "A sing off."

Ludwig buried his face in his hands. "Good grief, Gilbert, no."

"Good grief, Gilbert yes!" Gilbert said, flattening his dripping hair. "Aright, so Feli and Erzsi can be the judges?"

"That's not fair, they'll just pick ya without even listening!"

Erzsébet shook her head. As much as she doubted that Mathias was a mellifluous vocalist, someone could have farted into a microphone and still produced a better sound than Gilbert's singing. "No, we really won't."

"It doesn't matter, you know I'm just going to beat you anyway, Dane," Gilbert said, "So, next song that comes on?"

"Next song that we know, ya mean. We can alternate the lines."

They didn't have long to wait. Only about a minute later, the current tune faded away, succeeded by a dramatic tinkle of piano keys. Gilbert gasped, his eyes lighting up. "Awwww, yeah! This song is AWESOME!" He leapt onto the nearest empty chair just in time to bellow the first line, completely out of tune. _"At first I was afraid, I was petrified! Kept thinking I could never live without you by my side!"_

Mathias joined in immediately in an equally slurred voice, scrambling to get onto the chair opposite. _"But then I spent so many nights thinking how you did me wrong, I grew strong! I learned how to get along!"_

"Get _off_ the chairs!" Ludwig said in horror, "They'll throw you out if you're not careful!"

Gilbert ignored him. _"And so you're back from outer space— I just walked in to find you here with that sad look upon your face!"_

" _I should've changed that stupid lock, I would've thrown away the key…"_

" _If I had known for just one second you'd be back to bother me!"_

Ludwig turned to Erzsébet, his eyes pleading. "Make them stop! Please, he'll listen to you."

"Ludwig, don't be a meanie-pants," Feliciano said as he swayed in time to the music, "They're having fun!"

It was certainly true. Gilbert and Mathias' singing grew louder and increasingly exaggerated the further into the song they progressed, complete with hand gestures and a dance routine. There was very little to choose between them when it came to how utterly tone-deaf they were. Around the tent, people began to stop what they were doing to watch, erupting into cheers and whistles.

Gilbert grinned and threw his arms, bee and all, into the air for the chorus. _"Did you think I'd crumble? Did you think I'd lay down and die? Oh no, not I! I will survive!"_

Mathias was a second out as he struggled to sing as loudly as possible while simultaneously removing his shirt. _"Oh as long as I know how to love I know I'll stay alive!"_

" _I've got all my life to live!"_

" _I've got all my love to give!"_

" _And I'll survive! I will survive! Hey hey!"_

As the music blasted into an instrumental section, Gilbert swayed his hips wildly and Mathias had finally succeeded in taking off his shirt. He threw it into the crowd amidst a chorus of wolf-whistles, overbalanced in the process, and tumbled off his chair onto the floor. Somebody shrieked a second later, and Erzsébet leaned forwards to see Mathias on his hands and knees, vomiting uncontrollably.

"Oh for goodness sake," Ludwig muttered then turned to shout towards the direction of the bar, "OFFICER BONDEVIK!"

Lukas reappeared by Mathias' side. He gave him a long look over, then bent down to tug impatiently at his belt loop. "Right, come on. You've had your fun, time to sober up." Mathias just groaned in response and ducked his head down to throw up another mouthful.

"Hahahaha," Gilbert cried from his chair, "That means the awesome me wins!"

Lukas waited for Mathias to finish depositing the contents of his stomach, then lifted him by his arms and slung him over his shoulder. He staggered considerably from the weight.

"Hey, need a little help there, buddy?" Alfred appeared from out of the crowd, rushing forwards to grab Mathias' legs.

"No. I've carried him on my own before."

"You're a head shorter!"

"I'm strong enough to take him," Lukas said, but he didn't object as Alfred helped to shift the body equally between the two of them, "Thank you."

"No probs, man. That's what heroes do! Let's get this big guy to the restroom."

Together, Lukas and Alfred managed to half-drag, half-carry Mathias out of the tent. The crowd dispersed quickly after they left, nervously avoiding the pool of sick. Ludwig stood up and mumbled something about finding the janitor; Gilbert continued jumping up and down like he'd won the lottery; and Feliciano appeared to be struck with a fit of giggles. Erzsébet, meanwhile, decided to head to the bar for another round of drinks.

She was just debating whether to order a Sex on the Beach or another Kiss of Fire when she felt an urgent tap on her shoulder.

"Erzsébet, is that you?"

Erzsébet's heart lurched at the familiar voice. She turned around to greet its owner and— _oh._ It hadn't occurred to her just how very tipsy she was before now. Suddenly, her head was spinning and her stomach was churning and she felt hot all over. She took a deep breath. "Where the hell have _you_ been?"

Roderich folded his arms with an impatient huff. "It doesn't matter. And please do not use that accusatory tone. It makes you sound like Ludwig."

"But where—"

"If you must know, I had a rendezvous with a friend to attend to," Roderich's slender fingers began tapping against his arms, creating an anxious rhythm. "It was only very brief. In fact, most of the time was spent getting there."

Erzsébet barely heard his explanation. All she could think about was this _rendezvous_ and how it confirmed all her suspicions. How he'd rather be with some _friend_ over her. Unbidden, words took shape in her mouth and came gushing out. "I guess that makes sense. I bet you couldn't wait to get away from us horrible, common circus peasants and back to your own kind."

Roderich took a step back. She was surprised to see that he was shaking slightly. "Erzsébet, that really is not—"

"I hope you enjoyed your stuck-up aristocratic little meeting with your stuck-up aristocratic little friend," Erzsébet continued, unable to stop, "It's probably best that you did anyway. If you'd stayed in here, someone probably would have ended up injuring your delicate sensibilities or—"

She trailed off abruptly as she felt herself swaying. Roderich held out a hand to steady her. "You wouldn't happen to be drunk, would you?" he asked.

Erzsébet shook her head, "Just sipty."

"Dear Lord… well, I suppose that explains a lot," Roderich said. He gripped Erzsébet's shoulders frantically, and locked her in a fierce stare. "Now listen to me. I may have lived something of a privileged existence, I may even have behaved like a snob when I first came here, but this does _not_ equate to me looking down upon you any longer. Why else do you think I returned straight afterwards, if not to spend time with you? Why else would I enter this blaring tent with its tasteless music and mass of intoxicated fools? You are more than a common peasant to me, Erzsébet. Far more."

Erzsébet didn't know how to respond. How could she be angry when Roderich looked as desperate as he did now; holding her shoulders and saying these incredible things that had more of a dizzying effect than any of the drinks she had consumed? Did she even have any right to be angry with him in the first place? The alcohol must be having a stronger influence on her than she'd thought, for her world was spinning into a frenzy of colour.

Roderich's grasp on her shoulder tightened and he leaned over the counter, "Bartender! One glass of tap water and a Papagena over here, if you please!"

Erzsébet took the first glass when the bartender delivered it to her and gulped the contents down as quickly as possible. The shocking cold of the water slapped her vision back into focus, but she felt just as hot and just as lightheaded as before.

"Better?" Roderich asked, taking the glass from her.

"Much better," she lied. She let go of the counter and forced herself to look away from Roderich, scanning the tent instead. Gilbert must have wandered off somewhere else, but Ludwig and Feliciano had taken to the dance floor.

"Awwww, just look at those two," she said, pointing and giggling, "They're doing a slow dance together! Isn't it so adorable?"

Roderich glanced fleetingly in their direction, then took a long draught of his cocktail. His hands were like leaves in the wind.

"At least, I _think_ they're slow dancing." Erzsébet cocked her head. "They do seem a bit unsteady, don't they? But they're doing that cute little staring into each others' eyes thing, so it must be."

Roderich snorted. " _99 Red Balloons_ is hardly the most romantic of songs. Besides, their timing is completely skewed."

As Erzsébet watched Ludwig and Feliciano swaying ungracefully together, an idea began to form in her mind. Feeling a surge of recklessness, she tugged Roderich's sleeve. "Hey, why don't we dance together too?"

Roderich spat out a mouthful of his drink. "E—excuse me?!"

"Come on, it'll be fun!" The more she thought about it, the more she realised that the only Roderich she'd ever seen had been a guarded kind of Roderich; a prim and proper Roderich. But now… now he was completely different. And Erzsébet wanted to make the most she could of this situation, even if that meant drunk dancing in a dimly-lit Oktoberfest tent.

Roderich shook his head. "No. Certainly not. I refuse to dance to one of these ridiculous German pop songs. How they even gain popularity, I do _not_ know!"

"So… so, just say they put on a nice Austrian song instead…" Erzsébet said, smiling deviously, "Would you dance with me then?"

"I— I suppose I… yes, alright, fine! I'd dance with you then." He drained the rest of the cocktail, and slammed the glass onto the counter, gasping. Erzsébet regarded him cautiously. From the moment he'd reappeared, Roderich had seemed so distracted. Was something playing on his mind?

"Are you alri—?"

"Erzsébet, let's get out of here."

The sheer abruptness took Erzsébet aback. "Sorry, _what?_ _"_

"I cannot stand being in this tent for a moment longer. Not with all these disgusting, sweaty people… these ghastly lights… this _noise."_ Roderich said, shuddering. He gazed straight into Erzsébet's eyes with vehement earnestness. "I need to get away from here. I need to find somewhere quiet. Come with me, Erzsébet."

Erzsébet swallowed. "You mean…?"

"Just the two of us."

 _Oh._ Suddenly, Erzsébet was thankful for the low lighting. She could feel the blood rushing to her face, and her heart thumping a half-apprehensive, half-exhilarated tattoo somewhere in her throat.

"Yes," she breathed, "Yes, I would love to come with you."

Roderich's whole body relaxed, "Ah, good. I was afraid for a moment that you did not… well, no matter now. Shall we?"

Erzsébet followed as he cut a path through the mass of bodies. Her mind was in a whirl, almost unable to process the fact that this was really happening. For the first time since she'd met him, she realised she was beginning to entertain the possibility that Roderich might actually have feelings for her. Austere, talented, beautiful Roderich. She squeezed her eyes closed for a second, attempting to drive all trace of the sly suggestion out of her mind. It was just too much to consider right now.

On the way out, Erzsébet's hand accidentally brushed against Roderich's wrist. To her surprise, it was completely bare. Didn't Roderich use to wear a watch there? The memory was vague, and she felt so dazed that she couldn't properly focus on it. With a shake of her head, she put it out of mind. Maybe it was just her imagination.

* * *

 _To be continued next week..._

* * *

 _watch?v=L0bx1Yq-X8E_  
 _watch?v=GLHY0Pqeyzw_

 _The details about Oktoberfest,_ _including the tents, decorations, fairground rides and drinks, are correct as far as I know. If anyone knows otherwise, feel free to drop me a message._

 _Many thanks again to all my wonderful readers. Your messages and reviews give me all the motivation an author could ever want. :)_


	10. Chapter 10

After being swamped in the sticky heat of _Bodo's Cafezelt_ , the cool night air came as a shock to Erzsébet's system. Goose pimples laced up her arm as she walked through the darkened festival grounds, and her teeth began to chatter. She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered, wishing she'd brought a coat.

Clothing-wise, Roderich was even worse off than her. His absurd pair of tiny breeches left most of his legs exposed; yet he showed no sign of feeling the cold. It was clear that he had not recovered from his earlier spell of agitation. Erzsébet knew that he was a slow walker, but now his strides were even broader and faster than hers, and he barely seemed aware of where he was going. He kept muttering to himself too, quietly but fiercely, lapsing further into an indistinguishably thick Austrian accent. Erzsébet stayed one step behind him at all times.

Mercifully, Roderich came to an eventual stop close to a huge tent with a lacquered pattern and a sign reading ' _Braurosl'_ above the entrance. She was expecting him to pull her inside, but he bent double instead, putting his hands on his knees and panting hard.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"I— _huh huh—_ fine, need to— _huh huh—_ catch breath a little…"

Tentatively, Erzsébet placed a hand against the back of his head. He jerked slightly at the touch but did not pull away. "You need to relax," she said. She wove her fingers through his hair, marvelling at how soft and silky it felt. "It's a gorgeous evening and there's nobody here you know apart from me. Loosen up a little."

"Easy for you— _huh huh_ — to say. You are— _huh_ — drunk, after all."

"Sipty!"

"That merely proves— _huh_ — my point," Roderich said, and straightened up gingerly, "You know, I used to get like this all the time when I was younger. Ludwig used to let me— _huh_ — sit upon his back until I had sufficiently recovered. Somebody else I knew even used to carry me."

A fleeting image of Roderich being swept off his feet and carried bridal-style burst into Erzsébet's mind. Only, in this image, it wasn't Ludwig's arms that wrapped around him… Once again, she found herself blushing. It was getting ridiculous how so many of her thoughts reached the same conclusion.

Erzsébet took a moment to admire the area around her. The field was bustling with people, but wasn't anywhere near as packed as earlier. The rides had mostly closed, their blazing neon lights put to rest. There was a strong, slightly cloying scent about— of beer, of trampled grass, and of happiness. As Erzsébet entertained herself trying to spot couples from the people walking past, something in the crowd caught her eye. A man with a sharp blond quiff who was wearing a scarf was pushing and shoving through the mob hurriedly. Beside him, a young woman in a headband and with a goods-basket tied around her shoulders struggled to keep up with his pace. Erzsébet only saw them for a split second before they disappeared into the shadows, but it was enough. Acting on instinct, she pulled out her camera and snapped a photograph in their direction.

"Hey, look at this," She shoved the camera at Roderich, "Is that Belle and Lars?"

Roderich peered at the screen as he wiped his glasses on a handkerchief. "Where?"

Erzsébet squinted at the picture, but it had come out so blurry that it was impossible to see anything. Besides, the idea was absurd. Belle and Lars were back at the Circus; why on Earth would they trek all the way to Oktoberfest? It was dark and crowded and she still felt woozy from the alcohol— she must simply be seeing things. "Oh, it doesn't matter."

Roderich replaced his glasses and slipped the handkerchief back into his pocket. He surveyed their surroundings with vague bafflement. "Erzsébet, I am starting to fear that I might have led us somewhat astray," he said.

"Why, where are we headed?"

" _Wiesn Guglhupf._ It is one of the smaller tents. Here…" He pulled out a map and jabbed his finger at one of the huts displayed.

Erzsébet blinked. Was it actually _possible_ for anyone to be misled so far off-course? "Roderich, that is literally down the road from where we started!"

"Oh," Roderich adjusted his glasses and peered closer. "Are you absolutely sure?"

" _Yes_. Come on, _I'll_ take us there this time."

The map led Erzsébet to the outskirts of the festival, where a cosy, circular-shaped little tent awaited them. It couldn't have been more than about five-foot tall, and not much wider, but she felt drawn to it instantly. A soft, homely pink glow surrounded the tent like a cloud of glitter, like something out of a fairytale. When they came closer, Erzsébet noticed that it was divided into two sections. The lower half of the tent was uncovered— revealing an elegant round bar in the centre and a couple of high tables dotted around the outside. The upper half was dedicated to a structure made out of white material and divided into segments with arching tent poles. Erzsébet laughed lightly as she realised. The _Wiesn Guglhupf_ emulated the exact shape of a giant Bundt cake.

"Do you see now why it is known as the _Guglhupf?"_ Roderich said.

"In Hungary, we call it a _kuglóf,"_ Erzsébet said. It had only been a couple of hours since the potato salad, but her mouth watered at the thought. "Are they serving any cake inside?"

Roderich arched an eyebrow. The gesture was playful, teasing, and it made Erzsébet's heart beat a little bit faster. "They may well be, who knows? In fact, why don't we do a little investigating of our own?" He hopped through an entrance framed with curtains and outstretched his hand towards her graciously. "Allow me."

Erzsébet struggled not to roll her eyes— it was only a few inches off the ground, for goodness sake— but Roderich looked so sincere and so refined that she couldn't help indulging him. Taking his delicate hand, she allowed herself to be helped up, "Why thank you, kind Sir!"

"My pleasure," he said, and bent to brush his lips against her fingers. As pathetic as it seemed, Erzsébet could have sworn that her insides were melting from the contact. She even felt slightly wobbly as she took a few steps, as if swayed by a gradual motion.

"Are we moving, or am I still tipsy?" she asked Roderich.

"I expect you _are_ still tipsy, but you're correct in your observations. Watch closely." Roderich pointed to a nearby floodlight. Erzsébet kept her gaze fixed upon it, entranced as it steadily drifted away.

"That's the special thing about the _Guglhupf_ , you see," Roderich continued, "Not only is it a tent, but a slowly moving carousel too. Spectacular, is it not?"

Spectacular it was indeed. This had to be one of the most charming cafés that Erzsébet had ever seen. Sparkling wine glasses hung in rows above the bar; a soft English ballad warbled over the tent; the sweet aroma of coffee and freshly baked sponge made everything seem divinely appealing. Best of all, it was almost deserted.

Roderich ordered them coffee and gulghupf at the bar, which arrived a minute or two later. The marbled slices of cake were served on intricate china plates and dusted with sugar. Both had coloured swirls woven into the golden sponge— violet on one slice, and a curiously pale green on the other.

"You know, I don't think I've ever seen a green cake before," Erzsébet said, giggling.

"It is probably pistachio. I adore pistachio. But firstly, shall we sample this intriguing mystery flavour?" Roderich picked up a tiny pastry fork and used it to break off a chunk of the purple guglhupf. He speared it on the prongs of the fork, and lifted it towards Erzsébet's face, waiting expectantly. Erzsébet's heart skipped a beat. Was he asking her to…?

"Please," Roderich said, inclining his head.

Slightly unsure of herself, Erzsébet leaned forwards and bit the pastry off the end of the fork. The warm sponge felt as light as a feather and melted beautifully upon her tongue, accompanied by a fruity tang.

"Well?" Roderich asked, twirling the fork.

"Plum. And it tastes _glorious_."

Roderich's eyes lit up, "Truly? How very tantalising."

Erzsébet retrieved the second pastry fork waiting on the side of the plate. There was nothing she wanted more than to have another few mouthfuls of the plum guglhupf, but she resisted the urge and cut off a piece of the green cake. Mimicking Roderich, she held the fork in front of his mouth, grinning slyly.

"Now let _me_ return the favour," she said, "Go on, give it a try."

Roderich parted his thin lips to take the morsel into his mouth. Almost immediately, his face contorted in disgust. He put a hand over his mouth to conceal his choking.

"I thought you liked pistachio!" Erzsébet said, astonished.

"That is _not_ pistachio," Roderich swallowed, looking like it was a considerable effort, and shuddered, "It's _olive!"_

"Oh!" Now that the mystery had been uncovered, Erzsébet was eager to try some, and braced herself before tasting a mouthful. "Actually, it's not so bad."

"Well you can have it all in that case," Roderich said, already working his way steadily through the plum cake, "But as far as I'm concerned, a savoury cake is an insult to baking and all those who practice it."

" _Shhhh!"_ said Erzsébet, glancing pointedly at the bartender. Thankfully, he was serving someone else on the other side of the bar. "Surely you can't hate _all_ savoury cakes. What about carrot cake?"

"I think you'll find that one is _sweet_."

"Tomato cake?"

Roderich looked outraged. "Who on Earth would dare to create such a thing?"

"Antonio made it for us one time. It was quite nice really," Erzsébet said, stealing another piece of the plum guglhupf before Roderich could devour it all, "What about cheese scones?"

Roderich considered this for a moment as he took a long gulp of coffee, "Alright, perhaps that one is not so bad. Although I do consider it something of a stretch to call those starchy English lumps 'cake'."

"You're just being stubborn because I found an exception to your rule," Erzsébet said.

"Why, how very rude of you to imply so!"

They finished the coffee and guglhupf together, Erzsébet taking it upon herself to polish off the green one. She reached for her wallet when the bill arrived, but to her surprise Roderich insisted on paying. Erzsébet couldn't understand it. The memory of Gilbert's words was still fresh in her mind: _He's got a shit-ton of money but he'd never spend it, stingy little prick._ And yet he was. Roderich Edelstein— the man who patched his own underwear and wore old lederhosen that was clearly too small— he was willingly spending his money on expensive coffee and cake. On her.

"Erzsébet, is there something wrong?" Roderich said at length, "You look distracted."

Erzsébet looked down, a traitorous blush tingling her cheeks. "I… nothing."

Roderich frowned. "Not to intrude, but I have it on good authority that when a woman says 'nothing', she means 'something'. Are you perhaps not enjoying yourself?"

"No, not at all," Erzsébet said firmly, "I'm enjoying myself very much. But… you brining me here, buying cake and feeding it to me… isn't it all a bit out of nowhere?"

Roderich looked at her for a long moment. He had a peculiar glint in his eyes that Erzsébet found difficult to read. "Erzsébet… this little excursion may seem spontaneous, but I assure you it is not. If you must know, I have been planning it for quite some time," he said.

"You've been _planning_ to take me to the _Guglhupf?"_ Erzsébet said. She felt back of her throat growing dry. Where was this heading?

"No. Not necessarily here, but…" Roderich sighed, looking like the admission was causing him pain. " _Somewhere._ Only you and me."

Erzsébet was stunned. She couldn't speak; couldn't breathe; couldn't do anything apart from gape in awe at this fascinating man saying these fascinating words. The evening was all too much for her, playing on her easy, intoxicated senses like she was fifteen again. A part of her knew that she was behaving like a shojo heroine. But at the same time, another part of her knew this felt right and exciting, and longed for it to progress.

She was saved from an awkward response by the advent of a new song flowing through the cafe. It began with a sweeping orchestral introduction, then the familiar, slow, and poignant English lyrics. _Waking in the rubble, walking over glass…_

In a frenzy of excitement, Erzsébet turned to Roderich. There was no way he could fail to recognise _this_ tune, not after all the media attention it had received over the past few months. "Dance with me. Come on, you promised!"

Roderich was staring fixedly at the speaker in horror, caught like an animal in a hunt. "I…"

 _Neighbours say we're trouble, well that time has passed…_

His expression softened and he gave an exasperated sigh. "Very well, I shall keep my word."

Eagerly, Erzsébet jumped up and pushed back her chair, Roderich doing the same beside her. There wasn't a lot of space around the bar. Erzsébet spotted a little section on the opposite side that was unoccupied and dragged Roderich over. He still seemed startled, not to mention bemused, but guided Erzsébet's left hand onto his shoulder and clasped the other in his own.

Erzsébet chuckled. " _You're_ leading?"

"Are you doubting my manliness? If we're going to dance, we're going to do it properly."

His tone was so affronted that she had an urge to burst out laughing but managed to hold it in. The decorative lights overhead caught Roderich full on, dappling his hair a radiant pink. He looked magical, dazzling, and right now he was all hers.

Once they were in position, Roderich took off in time with the steady music. Erzsébet found herself able to follow his lead without much difficulty. His movements were gentle and easy to imitate, and they practically glided over the floor together. He held her loosely, carefully, keeping a friendly distance between his chest and hers the whole time.

 _You wouldn't know me at all today, from the fading light I fly…_

The music sped up and intensified, building towards the chorus. Roderich mirrored the transition perfectly by spinning in strong, elegant circles that grew faster and faster. Erzsébet gasped at the intensity, clinging to his shoulder she struggled to mimic the pace.

 _Rise like a phoenix, out of the ashes seeking rather than vengeance…_

"You've done this before, haven't you?" she said, as Roderich twirled her effortlessly under his arm.

Roderich's lips twitched in what might have been the beginnings of a smile. "I am Viennese, my father's family were once aristocrats and I attended music school. It is only natural that I should know how to ballroom dance," he said.

Erzsébet took advantage of his distraction to inch slightly closer into his body. "I suppose I should have expected that from somebody who wears a fluffy cloth."

"Excuse me? A fluffy what?"

"You know, that outdated thing you always have around your neck."

Roderich almost let go of her hand in shock. "How very dare…? This is a jabot! It is the timeless symbol of a distinguished nobleman and shall never go out of fashion!"

"That's funny considering that nobody else wears one."

"This is an outrage! An insult to all of my ancestors!"

He sounded so ridiculous and so melodramatic that, this time, Erzsébet couldn't hold in a burst of joyous laughter as they span around and around.

 _You know I will rise like a phoenix, but you're my flame…_

Roderich dipped her gently when they reached the end of the chorus, mindful to keep a firm arm behind her back. The melody switched back to the leisurely-paced verse and Erzsébet let Roderich guide her through the movements once again. It was a beguiling, intoxicating atmosphere— everything and everyone else melting into oblivion as the music washed over them. Erzsébet's heart strained with impulse, urging her to do something risky, something unexpected. Staring Roderich deliberately in the eye, she decided to take a chance. "Want to know a secret about your fluffy cloth?"

"Oh yes?"

"It makes you look sexy."

Roderich froze on the spot. His grip on her hand tightened; his limbs stiffened against hers. Then, incredibly, his lips shifted upwards into a smile.

"Roderich!" Erzsébet said softly.

"What is it?"

"I've never seen you smile before."

To her disappointment, the smile vanished as soon as the words were out of her mouth. With a slight cough, he pulled her back into the rhythm and kept to it determinedly as the song progressed. But Erzsébet couldn't help but notice the blush tinging his cheeks, nor that he was holding her a lot closer and more intimately than before. She simply bit back a knowing smile, followed the beat, and kept herself firmly in Roderich's arms.

 _You were warned, once I'm transformed, once I'm reborn… I'll rise up to the sky, you threw me down but…_

Erzsébet's pulse hammered as the instruments swelled and heightened towards one final climax. She felt another thrill of sudden wild desire, throwing her inhibitions to the wind. Barely able to keep the grin off her face, she gripped onto Roderich's body and counted down the seconds.

… _I'm gonna fly!_

Just as the music broke into the chorus, she shifted her body weight and slung Roderich low towards the ground, twisting him rapidly in her arms. Roderich let out a squawk of alarm but she pulled him up just in time. He really was so very light; it was incredible. The audacity of her action made her giddy, electrified, free, and she roared with laughter once again.

 _Rise like a phoenix, out of the ashes seeking rather than vengeance, retribution…_

"Erzsébet, that was _not_ funny!" Roderich said, clasping onto her for dear life. Although his glasses were eschew, his eyes were gleaming. "It was most improper, not to mention startling."

Erzsébet winked. "Don't lie. I know you enjoyed it."

"I thought I was going to fall!"

"Oh Roderich," Erzsébet said with a mockingly heartfelt sigh, "I may sweep you off your feet, but I'll always be there to catch you in time."

 _You know I will rise like a phoenix…_

She let Roderich spin her once more under his arm. As the tune began to slow, she drew him recklessly, instinctively closer.

… _but you're my flaaaaaaaame!_

With one final blare of brass, the music came to an end. Erzsébet and Roderich were suspended in their final positions, breathless and struck with lingering exhilaration. Only now did Erzsébet realise how close they were— much _too_ close. Close enough for her to feel the straps of his silly purple lederhosen against her chest. Close enough for her to have touched his charming little mole with her tongue. Erzsébet unclasped her hand from Roderich's and placed it on his other shoulder. Roderich looped his arms around her waist, sealing the proximity between them. With a jolt of pleasure, she noticed that he was smiling again; a shy, contented smile that was just for her. It was the most stirring, magnificent sight that she had ever seen. And Erzsébet could not control herself any longer. She simply rose to her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his.

It only lasted a moment—one moment of hasty, tangled electricity— before she was struck by the magnitude of what she had done. God, what had she been thinking?Erzsébetlowered herself shamefully and stuttered an excuse. "I—I'm sorry. I don't know why I did that, it was—"

But she had to stop there. Without an explanation, Roderich tilted his head down to her level and kissed the false words right out of her mouth.

It took Erzsébet a moment to process the information. This was a dream. It _had_ to be a dream, or else some alcohol-induced vision because no amount of flirting or intimate dancing could change the fact that these were _Roderich Edelstein's_ soft lips tenderly caressing hers and _Roderich Edelstein's_ warm tongue silently requesting an opening. And she was kissing back without even being aware of it, hungrily and furiously devouring his lips for all that she was worth. It was not quite a perfect synergy at first. Erzsébet kissed as if eating her first meal in weeks; Roderich as if sampling a very fine, rare wine. Yet they managed to settle on a compromise— a highly satisfying combination of passion and moderate pace. The tips of their tongues were brushing and touching in such a pleasurable way, but it was the feeling of Roderich's lips that Erzsébet really craved. She found herself moaning appreciatively as she explored them; the thick texture, the taste of beer and heat with a slight hint of plum gulghupf, the hopelessly, hopelessly arousing way in which they moved against hers.

The kissing felt so good that Erzsébet never wanted it to end but, of course, Roderich had to pull away eventually. He rested his head on her shoulder, humming Liszt and swaying to the movement of the carousel. He began murmuring ardently into her hair— telling her what a beautiful, talented, extraordinary young woman she was, how he'd longed to do this from the very start but feared it would be uncivilised, how utterly infatuated he was by her. Erzsébet already felt giddy from the kiss— not to mention extremely turned on— and could not quite manage a reply. Instead, she closed her eyes, laced her fingers through his velvety hair, and made happy-noises whenever his hot breath carrying those unbelievable words tickled her skin. It was strange really, she had always known that she was attracted to Roderich but had never understood the sheer potency of her yearning until now. She wanted Roderich. She wanted him so badly. She wanted his delicate musician hands on her body, touching her in all the right places. She wanted to drink of those lips again and again until she had her fill. She wanted…

Erzsébet gasped, half-surprised, half-pleadingly, as Roderich abruptly broke away from her arms. Her body had been melded with his from the shoulders right down to the thighs. Now that he was gone, there was a feeling of absence crawling across her skin like a dwindling fire. She leant up and tried to kiss him again, but Roderich placed a delicate finger over her lips. His body was tense and alert.

"Quiet! Is that…? Erzsébet, can you hear screaming?"

Erzsébet listened. Now that it had been mentioned, she noticed that there was a clamour of shrieks nearby, although they were too distant for any words to be distinguishable. "It's just a few people on one of the fairground rides," she said, impatiently attempting to pull him back into the embrace. Roderich wrenched out of the grasp and shook his head.

"No, that's impossible. They have all closed by now, we saw them."

"Then some idiots who have had too much to drink are trying karaoke," she said, "Roderich, please…"

But Roderich was already rushing back to the circle bar to retrieve his hat. Erzsébet caught up with him as he clambered off the carousel. Her mind was a whirlwind of mixed emotions— confusion, frustration, desire, and now a worrying pang of foreboding too. "Where are you going?"

Roderich did not even look in her direction. He jammed the Tyrolean back on his head, completely failing to notice that it was at the wrong angle. "It is only a precaution, and I am probably incorrect but… I think someone ought to investigate. And I think you ought to come with me, Erzsébet."

Erzsébet gawped at him. This was all so absurd. She refused to believe that the screaming could amount to anything drastic; refused to believe that something horrific could have happened in such a public place; refused to believe that anything was worthy enough of dragging her away from this blissful moment. Yet Roderich seemed so intent on checking that she had no choice but to jump off the carousel and hurry off after him.

The unsettling commotion brought Erzsébet and Roderich back to _Bodo's Cafezelt,_ one road away from the _Gulghupf._ The main tent was almost deserted when they entered. Multicoloured lights flashed uselessly over the floor, abandoned cocktails littered the tables, speakers blasted the triumphant sound of _We are the Champions._ They moved straight through to one of the dingy storage rooms behind the bar, where a large congregation of people was squashed together. Erzsébet quickly located a gap in the crowd and darted through, tugging Roderich after her.

Most of the room was filled with wooden beer barrels, although a few had been shoved to the side to create a space in the centre. Here, one solitary barrel stood, which everyone was giving as wide a berth as possible. It was not difficult to see why. The lid barrel was cracked— spilling liquid and froth down the sides— and a pair of Doc Martins protruded from the top. Erzsébet gave an involuntary shiver. The euphoric sensation that enraptured her barely two minutes ago had extinguished, only to be replaced with this sickening fear.

"Alright, move it people! Get yerselves outta the way," said a voice. Officer Mathias Kølher had appeared at the entrance, pushing through the crowd. His hair was dripping wet and his bare chest shone with sweat, but he seemed significantly more sober than when Erzsébet had last seen him. "Official police business coming through!"

Lukas Bondevik and Alfred followed a pace or two behind, Lukas flashing his _Kriminalpolizei_ identification card as he went.

"Only one way to deal with this properly, I think," Mathias said, surveying the barrel. He went to roll up his sleeves before appearing to remember that he didn't have any. "Lu, help me out, will ya? Stand back everyone!"

There were several shouts of protest which the Officers ignored as they hoisted the barrel between them. With gasps of effort, they hauled it over. Beer gushed out in gallons and flooded the room, provoking yelps and screeches from onlookers. But Erzsébet barely noticed when a wave of liquid washed over her shoes. Her whole attention was captivated by the pair of shoes… and the prospect of what might be beneath them.

The world seemed to pause, decelerate, unwind as if on slow motion. First came the boots, then the human legs to which they attached, then a motionless, lifeless corpse flopped face-up onto the floor. A fine white froth foamed at the victim's mouth, and his features were swollen; nauseatingly bloated to the point where they were not immediately identifiable. It was only when the waterlogged toy bee tipped out afterwards that Erzsébet was able to recognise the body as Gilbert's.

Erzsébet blinked. Once, twice, three times. The world around her had sped up again, whirling into a blur of noise and confusion. Too fast, too fast now. Erzsébet was not a part of it. There was no way she could be a part of it because there was no way that this could be real. All of her senses had to be lying to her because this was Gilbert— the awesome, indestructible Gilbert Beilschmidt and he couldn't be… couldn't be…

Mathias and Lukas let go of the barrel. It toppled to the ground, bouncing once before falling on its side and rolling leisurely. Back and forth, back and forth…. Each time it swung to the left, Erzsébet noticed a splash of colour against the wood. Four letters were printed in blazing red paint. _L-O-C-O._

Beside her, Roderich trembled and broke down into tears.

* * *

 _To be continued soon..._

* * *

 _The dance:_ watch?v=ToqNa0rqUtY

 _The Wiesn Gugelhupf is also a real tent at Oktoberfest, and is based on the cake by the same name. More information about said cake can be found here:_ wiki/Gugelhupf

 _Once again, I have been blessed with some really gratifying reviews and comments which make it all worthwhile. You have my thanks, marvellous readers. :)_


	11. Chapter 11

Once during her childhood, Erzsébet had gone ice-skating on a frozen lake and accidentally fell through the surface. Even after she had been rescued, even once she was back inside and in front of a roaring fire, her limbs remained numb for hours.

This was how Erzsébet felt sitting in Tino Väinämöinen's office the next morning. The forensics officer was trying to make small talk, asking her questions about how everyone was and whether or not she wanted coffee. Erzsébet left the talking to Feliciano who was sitting beside her, and gave minimal responses herself. Her chair was a wooden Ikea model with one wonky leg. She rocked backwards and forwards as if she was wiggling a loose tooth, not really aware of it at all. Large photographs adorned the stripy pink walls— Tino's wedding with the stern _Schutzpolizei_ officer, Peter and Erik playing football, and a fluffy white dog wearing a Santa hat. All Erzsébet could think was that they looked unreasonably happy.

Tino stirred two lumps of sugar into his black coffee and rested the teaspoon on the saucer. "Working out how your friend died was not really a very difficult task."

"Drowning?" asked Feliciano, trying not to squeak.

"Drowning," Tino confirmed, "He has all the classic symptoms; foam at the mouth and in his throat, lungs filled with liquid, bloated complexion. It's likely that his asthma caused it to happen more quickly, otherwise he might have been saved in time."

Erzsébet nodded, staring at Tino glassily. He was wearing an indigo shirt and a clashing brown tank top. It looked absolutely hideous.

"There are no other signs of injury on Gilbert's body," Tino continued, "His head, however, is a different matter. Here," He plucked out a photograph and pushed it across his wooden Ikea desk. Erzsébet resisted the urge to dash out of the room. She did not want to see Gilbert like this. The horrendous image of his swollen, abnormal body still haunted her memories.

It was a relief when Feliciano took the photograph instead. "There's some kind of nasty red lump on the back of his head. Does that mean that somebody hit him before he died?" he said.

"Exactly," said Tino, taking the photograph back, "We think that the wound was made by a heavy, blunt object— some sort of stick or bat. It probably rendered him unconscious, at which point the murderer was able to smash open the beer barrel and haul his body inside head-first to drown."

"Were there any fingerprints?" Erzsébet managed to ask. It felt like her mouth was filled with sand.

"No, but we didn't really expect to find any. This murder is just like the last one— so carefully planned out and almost untraceable, apart from one deliberate flaw…"

"Loco," muttered Erzsébet.

Tino paused to sip his coffee, made a face, and added another lump of sugar. "Do either of you know any Latin?" he asked, stirring it in.

"I do!" Feliciano piped up, "My Grandpa used to be a university professor person who specialised in Ancient Roman history, and he taught me a teeny little bit of Latin when I was young. 'Loco' means 'place', doesn't it?"

"Wow, you're good! Our officers had to look it up last night," Tino said, and Feliciano smiled, "But there was something else we learnt from our searches. It's very common for the words _In_ and _Loco_ to be put together in Latin and in this case, it doesn't just mean _place_ but—"

Feliciano finished the sentence for him, "'In the place!'"

"In what place?" Erzsébet asked.

"Any place! Well, it would have to be a complete sentence first but it _could_ be any place." Feliciano said. Then he gasped. "Waah, a complete sentence? Does that mean that this horrible meanie is going to…?"

"Yes." Tino said grimly, "If we're going by the theory that the murderer is leaving us a message, then we have to assume that they're planning to kill at least one other person."

There was an uncomfortable lull in conversation as the magnitude of Tino's words was left to sink in. Erzsébet tried to focus on the thought, tried to fear, tried to let it conjure some sort of emotional reaction. The attempt was useless. It was as if all her capacity for feeling had suddenly deadened. It was as if she was the one who had died in Gilbert's stead.

Tino broke the silence after a moment, tapping the teaspoon on the edge of his desk, "Of course, we don't have any proof that this is the case. We don't have any proof that the murders are even connected at all. As a department, we still have to work on the assumption that everyone who visited Oktoberfest last night is a potential suspect— including the two of you."

"But Mr Tino, we have alli—!"

"I know, I know," Tino said calmly, "I've heard that Ludwig Beilschmidt and Roderich Edelstein vouched for your innocence and to be honest, I don't think either of you would be capable of these crimes anyway. I was just using the example to explain why we aren't allowed to jump to any conclusions. We're only allowed to speculate."

"So where does it go from here?" asked Erzsébet.

Tino ran the teaspoon along the rim of his cup. The shivering chime rang painfully over the room. "As a department, we've decided to announce the death to the public, along with an official plea for information. The one upside to this murder is that it is much more likely that someone could have noticed something out of place," he said, "As for you, I'd suggest that you all stay on guard. I said that we're allowed to speculate, and these speculations suggest that both the murderer and the next desired victim are among you in the Circus."

When Erzsébet and Feliciano stood up and prepared to leave, Tino walked around the desk to shake their hands.

"I just want to say that it must have been difficult for you to come here today. You've both been very brave and strong," he said, "All I ask of you is that you continue being brave and strong for the Circus too. And particularly, for your men. They were the closest to the victim and they'll need your support now more than ever."

Erzsébet wished she could speak. She wished she could let Tino know that Roderich Edelstein was not in any way, shape or form 'her man'. That kissing him last night had just been one big cocktail and hormone-induced mistake. And she wished more than anything that she could express how utterly terrified she was that Roderich— the agitated, hasty Roderich from last night— had played some part in Gilbert's murder.

Instead, she just nodded, forced a smile, and followed Feliciano out of the painfully cheerful, Ikea-overloaded room.

…

 _Fireball Circus Rules_

 _1\. Nobody is to leave the circus grounds without first informing the Ringmaster._

 _2\. Reasons for temporarily leaving the circus grounds must be judged as legitimate; no personal whims._

 _3\. Co-operation with the Kriminalpolizei is paramount._

 _4\. Everyone is to return to their own tent by nine pm. Nobody may vacate their tent after this point._

 _5\. Aside from Roderich, practicing circus skills is banned until further notice._

 _6\. To prevent poisoning, meals are to be prepared by an outside vendor and will be eaten communally at the hours of nine am, one pm, and seven pm._

 _Signed: Ludwig Beilschmidt_

The notices were popping up everywhere over the next few days. Erzsébet expected outrage, but they were mostly greeted with dismal acceptance. There had been few sightings of the ringmaster himself since Oktoberfest. Erzsébet didn't think she could ever forget the look on his face when they broke the news that day; nor how he'd sobbed and screamed and punched the walls in anguish. According to Feliciano, he was now struggling to perform even the most basic of tasks, and Erzsébet did not blame him. She too felt like she was trapped in a nightmarish limbo.

The days dragged past with agonising laboriousness. Each one was dull, grey, and unchanging. Up at half-past eight to force down breakfast, exchanging frustratingly minimal amounts of information with the _Kriminalpolizei_ , and spending the rest of the time cooped up in her room. Erzsébet tried to distract herself with manga, but she quickly encountered another issue playing on her issue that came in the form of a handsome young pianist.

He had stopped by her tent four times now. She would hear his footsteps approaching from a distance, then the soft, heart-rending sound of her name in a refined Austrian accent. At first her heart would swell with instinctive happiness, then she reminded herself of her vow to trust sense over her silly, dangerous daydreams. Roderich would say her name once more, so imploringly that it took all of Erzsébet's strength to ignore it. After that, he would walk away, leaving Erzsébet in her prison of isolation.

One week later in the afternoon, Erzsébet finally cracked. She had been trying to keep to Ludwig's rule not to practice any circus arts, but the possibility of a forewarning crawled torturously over her mind. She checked first to make sure nobody was in the vicinity, then lit the scented candles, returned her manga to the forbidden box, and withdrew the most powerful of all prophesying tools. The legendary crystal ball.

The sickly waft of burning flowers and spices gradually permeated the room, making her feel woozy and lethargic. _Perfect._ Her heart thumped anxiously as she caressed the ball's glass surface and watched for a sign. Any moment now, the mist should start to clear. Any moment now. Erzsébet waited for minutes on end, but to her dismay, the orb stayed as clouded as a grey sky. Frustrated, she slumped onto the table and let her head sink in her arms. Why wasn't this working all of a sudden? She knew she possessed the sight; was it possible to lose it without any warning? Or were her ancestors were refusing to comply? Her stomach turned unpleasantly. Were they angry with her? Did they resent the fact that she'd indulged in a kiss with somebody whom they had deemed untrustworthy?

Just then, there was the sound of heavy footsteps, and her tent flap ébet jolted upright. She had an idea whom her visitor might be, but no clue what to do or say if it was. However, she was saved from the predicament when it was not Roderich, but Alfred who bounded into the tent. "Howdy Erzsébet!"

"Oh, hello," Erzsébet said. She couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed. "You don't usually knock before coming in?"

"How d'you expect me to knock when there isn't a goddamn door?" Alfred said. His eyes fell upon the crystal ball resting on the table. "Oooooh, are you doin' your magic?"

"I…" There was no point in denying it. The orb had already lit up and was emitting a faint silvery glow over the room. "I was _trying_ to. Please don't tell anyone."

Alfred put a hand over his heart. "Don't'cha worry, your secret is safe with me." He sat down at the opposite side of the table. "This is hella exciting, y'know. Did you see anythin'?"

Erzsébet shook her head. "That's just the problem, it isn't working for me today. I don't know whether I'm out of practice or whether my— w—whether I've done something wrong or…"

"Bullshit! I think you're just upset and you're lettin' that get to you," Alfred said. He raised his glasses and rubbed at the corners of his eyes. "Gee, it's hella smokey in here. I dunno how you manage to do your magic thing like this anyways."

"It helps me get into the zone," said Erzsébet, "Or at least, it usually does."

Alfred licked his thumb and forefinger and put out the nearest candle. There was a fizzling sound, and a stream of scented smoke snaked from underneath his fingers. "How 'bout instead of using this perfume crap, you get into the zone by lettin' go of your sorrows instead? C'mon, I wanna see you try."

Erzsébet sighed, certain that this was all pointless, but what did she have to lose? She closed her eyes and breathed in and out rhythmically, trying to focus on a simpler, happier time. If she really concentrated, she could almost believe that it wasn't Alfred but the boy, Peter and his friend sitting opposite, and that Feliks was ready to barrel in from the tent next door at any moment. She raised her heavy eyelids and studied the crystal ball. The mist started to clear, producing a very faint, very blurry image. Heart bounding, Erzsébet raised her hands to the orb's surface and brought the image into focus. She could vaguely hear Alfred's voice asking something but she blocked it from her mind, and lowered her voice to a harsh whisper.

"I see two small, indistinct figures. They are approaching, they are coming closer…" She stared fixedly at the shadows, immersing herself into their story. "They are not searching for anything, these figures, they are mere drifters, wandering aimlessly without a cause…"

There was the distant sound of buzzing. A hazy heat washed over her, and everything began spinning as if it was no more than a childish fancy. She had returned to another world now. The enigmatic, captivating world of her ancestors. Erzsébet continued narrating as the vision progressed.

"But look! They have stumbled upon something— a box with a golden lid. Will they open it? Oh, but they _must_ open it. They are so very curious about what is inside…" A sudden chill of trepidation danced down her spine. "And now one figure is opening the lid, and now… and now…"

The heat intensified suddenly, taking on a greasy, suffocating feel. The world inside the ball began to shatter like glass, falling and breaking around her, little pieces transforming into a sea of scarlet blood. Erzsébet had never seen anything like this before. Nothing so intense, nothing so violent. Dropping her hands, she let her mouth fall open in a silent, terrible scream…

"…sébet, Erzsébet! C'mon snap out of it, you're scaring me!" Erzsébet's vision swam into reality and she found herself back in the calm security of her tent. Alfred was firmly shaking her by the wrists. "You okay? You went real weird and started sceamin', what the hell happened?"

A cold layer of sweat tingled on Erzsébet's forehead. She dabbed it shakily with her sleeve. "I'm sorry, it's never been so graphic before…"

"So what was in the box?" Alfred asked. He let go of her hands, but his bright blue eyes flashed with unease.

"I don't know," Erzsébet said, "But whatever it was… it wasn't good. It was like a Pandora's box, as soon as it opened, the whole world fell into chaos."

"And you think that's the future?"

"It's hard to tell. The crystal ball never spells the future out you. You can only work it out by reading between the lines."

"But all that stuff 'bout figures." Alfred snorted. "That can't be real, right? Kinda sounds ridiculous to me."

Erzsébet felt a flash of irritation, and was about to retort before she noticed something unusual. She focused her inner senses, examining the fiery haze around Alfred's form. "Do you know, I think your aura's changed," she said.

Alfred furrowed his brow. "What d'you mean?"

"Last time you were here during a reading, your aura was blue, like ripples on a lake," Erzsébet told him. It had been months ago now, but she still remembered the tranquil colour vividly. "But now it's turned red. Passionate red."

"Is that normal?" Alfred asked.

"It's very unusual. But auras do change sometimes, especially after a shock." Erzsébet laughed bitterly. "To be honest, I bet half the troupe's aura's have changed now…"

"Maybe they'll turn back in time, you never know," Alfred said, "Guess you'll just hafta wait for the grief to fade, huh?"

"Yeah…" Erzsébet said distantly. Then, remembering to stay cheerful, she forced a smile. "But thank you for helping me out. I—I'm feeling better already!"

Alfred tilted back on the chair, stretching his hands behind his head. " _What matters most is how well you walk through the fire."_

"That's pretty," Erzsébet said, "Where is it from?"

"Some hotshot author guy. I used to go to Church real regular when I was a kid and there was priest there who was a fan of his. He said that sorta thing to help me deal with the pain."

"Oh," Erzsébet said. A feeling of pity wiggled inside, slightly lessening her own agony. "So… if you don't mind me asking, have you ever known somebody to have died? Before this, I mean?"

Alfred let out a long breath. "Yeah. My Pop. It's a loss that don't ever leave you for real but… well, the priest said that you gotta get over it at some point. Stop it draggin' you down, y'know?"

It seemed impossible that there would ever be a time when she didn't feel as lost or as broken as she did now, but Erzsébet did know. Her throat was too constricted for a reply, so she just nodded.

 _Smack!_

At that moment, something bulged against the walls of the tent, making Erzsébet jump. A second later, it rebounded straight off.

"Sorry!" yelled a voice from afar.

Erzsébet dimmed the crystal ball and went to investigate, Alfred in tow. Outside, there was football lying by her tent. A familiar boy was running towards her, his face flushed and sweaty.

"Peter?" Erzsébet waited until he was within distance before picking up the football and rolling it towards him. "What are you doing here?"

Peter seized his ball and held it under one arm. He was panting a little, but spoke rapidly. "Thank you, missus! Me and Charlotte heard that there was another murder so we came to do some more investigating. But it got a bit boring after a while, and we found this nice Italian man who had a football. After the game we'll find the killer for sure!"

"Do your parents know that you're here?"

"Yep!"

Erzsébet frowned. She found that quite hard to believe. "Are you sure?"

"They do! Well, at least…" He scraped the grass with the toe of his trainer. "They don't know I'm _here_ here, but they know I'm out. But it's important for us to come since we're detectives too. We're so close to finding this criminal, I just know it."

Alfred gave him a cheer of encouragement. "Hell yeah, kiddo! You'll make an awesome hero one day."

"Of course I will."

"Hey, are you coming?" Charlotte was standing impatiently on the patch of green to the left of Antonio's tent. Sebastiano sat beside her, aimlessly picking at the grass.

"One moment!" Peter shouted back, then he turned to Erzsébet and Alfred. "Come and play! It'll be more fun with five of us."

"I don't think—" Erzsébet started, but Alfred interrupted her.

"Sure thing! Gee, I haven't played soccer in years."

Peter's eyes gleamed. "Then I'll _definitely_ beat you in that case. Come on!"

He dropped the ball and began dribbling it unskilfully towards Charlotte and Sebastiano. Erzsébet raised her eyebrows, a little thrown, but jogged after him. Surely _one_ game of football couldn't hurt. When they approached, Sebastiano stood up quickly and started gesturing. "Peter! Peter! Pass it over here. Flip it in the air!"

Peter did so, and Sebastiano caught it effortlessly on his foot. He balanced it there for a few seconds, then deftly juggled it between his foot and his knee.

Peter watched on with a scowl. "How come you can do keepie-uppies and I can't?"

Sebastiano flicked the ball upwards and started heading it up and down. "Because I'm a better footballer is why!"

"Are not!"

"Then it's because I'm older, _bambino_."

Peter stuck out his tongue. "Like _that_ makes any difference!"

Sebastiano let the ball fall, circled it rapidly with his foot, and caught it again just before it was about to hit the ground. He didn't even look like he was trying. "Then it's because I'm Italian, and everyone knows Italians are the most stylish!"

"So, what about teams?" Erzsébet said, "One side is going to be outnumbered, so we should make sure they're evenly matched."

"How about boys versus girls?" Peter said, "We'll beat you easy peasy lemon squeezy!"

Alfred flexed his muscles. "Or we could do Europe versus America. Then I'll kick your asses all by myself."

"I'm Australian, you knucklehead!" Charlotte snarled.

"Sweet! Then you can join team America!"

Charlotte glanced towards Erzsébet for help, "I'm not playing on the same team as him."

"How about _I_ team up with Peter and little Charlotte, and Erzsébet goes with Alfred," Sebastiano said, now casually practicing step-overs.

Charlotte didn't look particularly happy about that arrangement, but Peter seemed positively delighted. Erzsébet nodded, "Fine by me."

"Brilliant!" Sebastiano passed the ball towards her and jogged into position on one half of the area. "You can have first kick-off since you're outnumbered."

Erzsébet walked over to the opposite side, knocking the football with her. Makeshift goalposts were already marked out at either end; formed from jumpers and rocks. She rested her right foot on the tip of the ball and grinned defiantly at her competitors.

"Alright, shall we say first to ten?" She turned back towards Alfred and kicked to ball at his feet. "Let's go!"

…

Erzsébet was not sure how it happened. She had only meant to play one game of football, just to humour Peter and Charlotte. After they lost the first game, however, Alfred wanted to play again. One rematch quickly turned into two, then three, until Erzsébet found herself completely engrossed, neither knowing nor caring how long she'd spent playing.

At first, Sebastiano appeared to be just as incredible a footballer as he'd claimed. The ball looked as though it was magically glued to his foot as he glided over the pitch, and he struck it with such force that it usually sailed straight through Alfred's hands. It was hard to believe that this was the same boy as the one who had missed Oktoberfest due to illness. But as the afternoon lapsed into evening, Sebastiano's performance began to drop. His reactions slowed, his complexion paled, and he seemed distant— even anxious. Eventually, he had to stumble back to his tent, muttering something about needing to sleep. The rest of them continued to play two-a-side afterwards, but it wasn't as much fun without him.

Dusk began to settle in swiftly, and before long it was too dark for anyone to even see the ball. Together, the four of them dismantled the goalposts, and Charlotte texted her parents for a lift home. She and Peter left the grounds a couple of minutes later, shouting and waving goodbye. On the way back to her tent, Erzsébet walked with a skip in her step. The tight, restless knot in her chest had loosened and she felt lighter than she had in days. It seemed so bizarre that a few games of football could have such an effect, but she revelled in the sensation. There was a kind of feather-light freedom in simply being able to smile again.

But when she ducked under the flap of her tent, her newfound happiness fizzled out as soon as it had come. The candles were still lit and the crystal ball lay exactly where she had left it, but now there were two other people there, who stood up at her entrance. One of them was Luca. He wore a striped shirt, a white waistcoat, and such an uncharacteristically grim expression that Erzsébet was taken aback. His companion was not a member of the circus troupe, but she only took a second to identify. There was no way Erzsébet could fail to recognise that neat ribbon and wide, green eyes. Only now, they were wide with fear.

Erzsébet blinked. "…Lilli?"

The girl twisted her hands uneasily. "G—good evening, miss. I've come here with… with a confession."

"What sort of confession?" Erzsébet asked, although the sick, twisted feeling in her stomach told her that she already knew.

"I— I mean that I'm going to give evidence," Lilli said, "Because I know that the one who murdered your friends is— is…" Her voice quavered, and she took a deep breath, "…is my brother. The person you are looking for is Vash Zwingli."

* * *

 _To be continued next week..._

* * *

 _Not a lot of action in this chapter, but I can promise it's going to be picking up again next time._

 _Many thanks to everyone who tirelessly reads this story every time it updates. The comments and general support give me life._


	12. Chapter 12

Steadying the pot with both hands, Erzsébet poured out three portions of camomile tea into dainty china cups. A young lady had come to her in distress, and her solution was tea and sympathy. It made her feel about a hundred years old— like a grandmother, or the wise woman of a village.

Lilli accepted her cup with shaking hands. "I—I'm so sorry that I've left it this late, I wasn't sure who to come to," she said, "I didn't want to tell the police, and I don't know anyone in the area. But then I remembered the Fireball Circus and how kind you two were to me, and I thought… I decided…"

Luca gave her hand a comforting squeeze. "Well I think you're being awfully brave."

"He's right," Erzsébet said, "This must be very hard for you, and you've shown a lot of courage just by coming here. Feel free to speak at your own pace, dear."

Lilli nodded and sipped at her tea. "As I said, I don't live in Bavaria. My brother and I grew up in a small town in Switzerland, right on the three-way border with Austria and Liechtenstein. After our parents died three years ago, my brother became my legal guardian, and we recently moved to Vienna for his work. For a while, he seemed happier there than I'd ever seen him before. Then, about two months ago, everything changed. He was suddenly so angry all the time, always snapping and shouting and losing his temper. Sometimes I'd even find him alone in the bathroom, crying or bashing his head against the wall. I returned home from school one day to find two suitcases packed. He didn't explain anything; he put me in the car and said that we were going on a trip to Bavaria. I kept on asking and asking why we were going so suddenly, but he just said that… that he had some important b—businesses to attend to, and that we might be gone for s—some time…"

"My word, what a scoundrel!" exclaimed Luca, flicking his fringe to one side.

Erzsébet nodded slowly, taking the information in. "So, that explains how you came here… I agree that it sounds very suspicious. Are you able to talk about what happened afterwards?"

"I—I think so…"

Luca watched her for a moment, and then gingerly stretched his arm around her shoulder. Lilli gave a start, but couldn't hold back a grateful smile.

"You're explaining very well so far," Luca said, flicking his fringe, "Keep going— I know you can do it!"

Lilli's demure smile widened ever so slightly. She cleared her throat to continue, "We drove for almost five hours straight before stopping at a hotel in this town. A couple of days later, my brother told me he had tickets for the Fireball Circus. I thought there was something strange about that. He always hated these social occasions and performances with lots of people around. But we went together and… and…Vash left his seat after the third performance. He said that he was going to the toilet and that it wouldn't take a moment but he only returned after the shot had been fired. He absolutely refused to tell me where he went, even when we learnt about… w—what happened. I didn't want to believe it, but… I couldn't imagine another possibility."

Erzsébet thought back over what she knew of Vash Zwingli. She remembered seeing him sneaking off during the show. She remembered his elusive exchange with Lilli in the supermarket… as well as all the pellet ammunition he bought. She remembered Alfred's words of warning: _"He's a freakin' good shot."_ Silently, she cursed herself for overlooking it until now. "Lilli, sweetie," she said slowly, "Does your brother own many guns?"

Lilli nodded glumly. "That was what I was going to tell you about next. My brother has always been an incredible shooter. I think he could even have done it in the Olympics if he'd put the effort in."

"So, if he managed to steal Alfred's gun when you were visiting the Circus grounds earlier…" Erzsébet said, but Lilli finished her sentence for her.

"Yes. Vash would not have had any problem using it."

Erzsébet took following silence as an opportunity to sip her tea, thinking. Grumpy Vash. Mysterious Vash. Expert gunman Vash. It all seemed to fit together so well and so obviously that it was almost unreal.

"So that would be Feliks' murder," said Luca, "But what about Gilbert's? Do you know if Vash went to Oktoberfest?"

Lilli sat up straighter in her chair. "When I heard that the festival was going on in Munich while we were visiting, I was really excited. I'd never been before and I was looking forward to it so much… but my brother said I wasn't allowed to come. He told me that I was too young and that it was unsafe, even though I'm sixteen years old!"

"Join the club," Luca muttered, flicking his fringe.

"Vash told me that he was planning to visit Oktoberfest alone," Lilli continued, "This time, I _knew_ that something must be wrong. He's always said that the beer is far too expensive there and he doesn't even _like_ people very much. I didn't want him to go, but it was just the same as before— nothing was going to get in the way of him and his… business."

"What happened when he came back?" Erzsébet asked gently.

"Vash returned earlier than I'd expected, and— and… I've never seen him looking so satisfied. He told me that his business was almost complete, and that we'd be able to go home soon." Lilli shuddered. "I should have been pleased, but I felt so afraid that I couldn't sleep at all. And when I heard the announcement on the news the next day, all my suspicions were confirmed. My big brother really is… a—a _murderer."_

She whispered the last word, and it rose from her lips like a phantom. Her body was still and unwavering beneath Luca's reassuring arm, but her lower lip quivered incessantly. Then, a single elegant teardrop escaped from the corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek.

Luca stiffened in alarm. "Lilli? Please don't cry, Lilli! Please!"

"The worst part about it is that I have n—no idea why he did it," Lilli said, still speaking in the ghostly whisper, "My brother has his enemies, but I didn't realise he even knew anyone at the Circus, let alone hated them enough to—to warrant…" She trailed off. A scattering of tears leaked out to join the first.

Luca patted her on the back awkwardly. "There, there," he said.

Erzsébet chewed her lip. As far as it seemed, Vash's motive was the only blind spot that remained in this case. She remembered Feliciano's translation of the red writing: _"In the place…"_ A murder for a cause. What was Vash Zwingli's cause? Where was the elusive _place_ in this mystery?

"Don't worry about those questions for now, dear. I'm sure they will be answered later," she told her, "Would you like some more tea?"

She was about to pour out another cup when Lilli opened her eyes. They were glistening, and as startled as a rabbit's. "Later?" she said, "Do you mean you're going to…?"

Erzsébet lowered the teapot. "Lilli, I know you care for your brother very deeply, but you must understand that we have to tell the _Kriminalpolizei_ about this. These aren't just any crimes. It wasn't a car that Vash stole, or an item from a shop, but two very real human lives."

"Besides, he might be planning to do it again," Luca said, flicking his fringe.

Lilli sank on the spot. Her expression was crushed, distraught, and oddly accepting. "I knew it was going to come to this," she said, "P—perhaps that's the reason why I felt so reluctant to tell anyone. It's so selfish of me, isn't it?"

"Not in the slightest," Luca said, shaking his head firmly, "Doing the right thing is never the easy option, and only the most courageous can. Don't you feel better knowing that?"

"I _thought_ I would," said Lilli, "But now that I've come here, now that I've said it for real… I don't feel better at all."

Erzsébet and Luca exchanged helpless glances. What sort of reassurance could they provide in answer to that? Perhaps it was for the best that, just then, light footsteps pattered outside. Erzsébet's breath caught at the familiar sound, but the anticipated call of her name did not follow. Instead, Roderich Edelstein burst straight into the tent.

"Erzsébet, I apologise for this appalling breach of etiquette, but I cannot bear—" Roderich stopped hastily as he noticed Erzsébet's visitors. He glanced at them, and then did a double take. "…Miss _Zwingli?"_ he said.

There was a very frightened pause. Lilli's expression told Erzsébet that she was every bit as baffled by this as her. Eventually, she managed to stand up and incline her head towards him. "Er, good evening, Sir?"

"You mean that you don't…? He didn't…? Good Lord…" Roderich muttered. He shook his head incredulously. "You have no idea who I am, do you? You don't even know my name."

At this, Lilli looked positively terrified. "Should I? I'm sorry if I've forgotten something important."

"More to the point, how on Earth do you know hers?" Luca asked. His fringe was out of place again, but he did not flick it back.

"It doesn't matter now, we're wasting time," Erzsébet said. She snatched her iPhone from the top of a box reserved for _Free!_ doujinshi, "Right now, we need to call the _Kriminalpolizei._ We need to tell them to detain Mr Zwingli as soon as possible on suspicion of murder."

"Excuse me? Surely you cannot mean…?" Roderich's gaze flicked between Erzsébet holding the phone and Lilli's tear-tracked face. Realisation dawned on him. "You mean to tell me that you are all under the impression that _Vash_ committed the murders?"

"You know my brother too?" Lilli squeaked.

Roderich pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, I happen to know your brother. And I also happen to know that he is completely innocent of these crimes which you attribute to him."

"Innocent?" said Luca, "But how can you…?"

"The reason I say this," Roderich said impatiently, almost like he was fighting with himself, "Is because at the exact times when both of the murders were committed… Vash Zwingli was searching for me."

Nobody said a word in response. The candles flickered— pinpricks of light against the steadily looming shadows. Erzsébet stopped dialling the number and put her phone down shakily. There was a very queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach that had nothing to do with the scented incense sticks.

"I think you had better sit down," she told Roderich, "You've got a lot of explaining to do."

…

Roderich drummed his fingernails restlessly against the oak table. There was not a lot of room with the four of them squashed around it, and his arm brushed against Erzsébet's with every movement. Erzsébet busied herself pouring another round of camomile tea, trying to ignore the scent of his cologne, the way the candles cast light upon his bare neck, the heat burning under her skin whenever they touched.

"The first time I met your brother, Miss Zwingli, you had not yet been born," Roderich said, "I lived in a town not far from yours in my early childhood— just over the Austrian border. I was no more macho or athletic then than I am now, and whenever the local boys picked on me, Vash was the only one to step in. We used to play in the woods, swim in the rivers, and spend almost every day together. When I grew tired, he would carry me home upon his back without a single complaint. Sometimes I wonder whether he loved me even then."

Erzsébet jerked at his use of the word 'loved'. If Roderich noticed, he ignored it. "My family moved to Vienna when I was six," he continued, "I told Vash that we would keep in contact, that I would write to him and that he could visit any time he pleased. But I must confess, I had forgotten about him within two years. Forgotten about him in a way that he _never_ forgot about me."

"So when _we_ moved to Vienna a few years ago," Lilli said slowly, "Did you and Vash find each other again?"

Roderich nodded. "As it happens, it was a coincidence. I was playing the piano at _Cafe Schwartzenberg_ — an evening job of mine. Schubert's sonata number 20 in A minor. Vash simply walked in and recognised me immediately. And once again, we were friends. For six months, we picked off from where we left off as if nothing had changed. Yet I could sense something… different about Vash in this time. I noticed his smiles, how easily his gaze wandered, how his hands lingered for a little too long when we touched. I quickly began to suspect that he was looking for… something else. Then, after one drunk night out frequenting the Viennese bars together, we were more than friends."

The final sentence was like a jolt of electricity through Erzsébet's veins. She found herself bombarded with conflicting feelings— shock, fascination, stabbing jealousy, and an unfathomable twinge between her legs. She could have reacted in a hundred different ways, yet all she managed to stutter out was the most obvious question of all. "I… didn't know that you liked men."

Roderich sighed and swept one hand through his hair. "And that was just the problem. I _don't_."

Luca set down his teacup with a scandalised air. "You mean that you knowingly entered into a relationship with someone against your preferences?"

"It was _not_ like that," Roderich snapped, "I'll have you know that I was very much on the… bicurious side. And at first, it seemed as though the chance I took with Vash paid off. I enjoyed our time together; the social side, the romantic side, even aspects of the… _other_ side." He coughed lightly. "It did not last, however. As I stayed with Vash for longer, not only did my initial passion for him fade, but the things I did with him began to feel inherently peculiar too. I knew I had to call it off, the sooner the better. The only issue was with another revelation about our relationship."

"What was that?" asked Lilli.

"Your brother had not at any point seen _me_ as an experiment," Roderich fingers started drumming again, faster and faster, "This is why I was so surprised that he had not mentioned me, Miss Zwingli. For Vash, it was serious. For Vash, it was love. And for me not to have realised or clarified this sooner was both utterly irresponsible and the biggest mistake of my life."

Erzsébet did not know whether to feel relieved on horrified. She had a feeling that the end of the tale would not be pleasant, but prompted him to continue. "Go on. What happened?"

"I suppose it was the watch that finally did it," said Roderich, "Vash worked from Rolex, and for our first anniversary he gave me one of their most extravagant models— a watch made from pure gold, and studded with diamonds. I ought to have been delighted, yet it sickened me to the core. Vash detested wasting money on anything unnecessary, and here he was giving such an intricate and expensive object to a man who did not truly love him. I felt like such a fraud, a charlatan. And so…" Roderich's knuckles whitened. "So I did something which I am not proud of at all. I fled."

Lilli twitched. "Fled?"

"Yes. My mind was whirling and spinning with guilt. I did not know what to do. So I abandoned everything— my home, my family, my half-completed music course— and ran away to join the circus."

Luca gave a low whistle. "Talk about extreme measures!"

"I realise now that what I did was extremely cowardly, but at the time it did not seem so. I told myself that I was taking the only option to ensure that nobody got hurt." He chuckled softly, humourlessly. "But of course, it was never going to work like that, was it? I think I realised deep down that Vash would always find me in the end. And I didn't have to wait long until this came to pass."

Erzsébet took a deep gulp of tea. It was as if Roderich's words were dismantling her carefully constructed jigsaw, turning the parts upside down and fitting them together into a new picture. And Erzsébet knew that she had the next piece in the puzzle. "So on the night of our last performance…?"

Roderich nodded crisply. "Vash had located my whereabouts and was waiting for me in one of the dressing rooms. Even though I had been expecting this outcome, I must say that I was surprised at the sheer speed in which he managed it. It spoke again of how very devoted he was to me, to _us,_ and I realised how much he deserved an honest answer. So I told him everything."

"And?"

"Vash… did not take the news well. I had never seen him as uncontrollably infuriated as he was that night," Roderich said. He was back to drumming on the table, his nimble fingers dancing. "He went into a rage, flinging my belongings at the walls, screaming at me through his tears, shouting about how I'd deceived him, how I'd toyed with his emotions without thinking twice. It only lasted a couple of minutes, but it felt to me as if it was going on for eternity. Eventually, he stormed out, telling me that he never wanted to see my face ever again."

"But… he must have done," Erzsébet said. Her mind was whirring like a set of cogs. "You saw him again at Oktoberfest, didn't you?"

"How very astute you are today. Yes, Vash texted me while I was there and requested a meeting. I thought he was going to try to rekindle the relationship, and braced myself to let him down once more. But in the end, it turned out that he only wanted the watch back." He snorted. "I don't know why I was even surprised. He hasn't changed a hair."

"So that's… it?" Lilli asked, "This trip to Bavaria, everything my brother did… it was all over a relationship?"

Luca scratched his chin, flicked his fringe. "It does sound rather far-fetched. How are we to know that this isn't a ploy to conceal the fact that you've been working alongside Vash all along?"

Roderich shrugged. "It is true that you only have my word on this matter. All I can ask of you is to believe me."

Erzsébet could understand Lilli and Luca's reservations. It seemed unthinkable that such suspicious behaviour was all a coincidence, explained away with an innocent justification. Yet at the same time, Roderich's account shed light on so many mysteries that had vexed her mind over the past few weeks. There was the inexplicably expensive watch, for one, as well as its disappearance; his hasty departure from the box seat; his perturbation during Oktoberfest; Gilbert's words from about lifetime ago, _"If your prissy piano training was going so well, why did you cut it short?"._ And most importantly of all, why Roderich had been so eager to conceal his whereabouts from her the whole way through.

"Believe him," she said to Lilli and Luca, "His story does seem unlikely but it fits in every way possible. It _has_ to be the truth."

Lilli gasped and put both hands to her chest. "So, my brother… my brother…?"

"No. He didn't murder those people after all."

"Oh, wh—what a _relief_." She turned to Roderich, her eyes shining. "I have a lot to thank you for, Sir."

Roderich smiled bitterly. "You have nothing to thank me for. On the contrary, I ought to be apologising for putting the two of you through such terrible hardships. I am the man who broke your brother's heart, Miss Zwingli. Can you ever forgive me for that?"

"Of course _I_ can forgive you." Lilli said. She fiddled with the collar of her dress and looked down. "But I don't think I'm the person whose forgiveness you need."

"No," said Roderich, "No, I don't suppose you are."

The conversation lapsed into silence. Erzsébet gazed into the creeping semi-light of the candles, clinging to the one, incredible revelation that she could not get off her mind. Roderich was innocent. He had not killed Feliks, he had not killed Gilbert, he had not contributed to their murders whatsoever. He had not even lied to her at any point. She repeated the thought over and over to let it sink in. Innocent, innocent, innocent. Three days ago, she would have given almost anything to hear that. Now, it registered with a numb sense of uncertainty, a sense of _'what now?'_ If Roderich was innocent, where did this leave the two of them?

After a moment, Lilli finished her tea and spoke again, "Excuse me, Miss Héderváry? I don't mean to be rude, but would it be possible for me to go home? I'm so exhausted and my brother doesn't even know I'm out and— and," She covered her face with her hands. "Oh goodness I'm going to have to explain it to him…"

" _Shhh, shhhh."_ Luca rubbed her back and paused before pressing a very light, very tentative kiss into her hair. "How about I walk you home, yes? We'll go straight back now, and I'll help you explain."

"No! Vash wouldn't like that at all, he—he wouldn't want a boy to—"

"Or how about you call your brother, dear, and tell him to come to the tent," Erzsébet said, "Then, we can all explain together."

…

Erzsébet was half-expecting Vash Zwingli to arrive dressed in a soldier's outfit and to hold them all at gunpoint while demanding to have Lilli back. In reality, it was nothing like that. He wore a faded grey shirt and his hands were crammed into the pockets of his baggy trousers, held up by a pair of braces. For once, he did not have the white beret, and his choppy dirty-blond hair looked all the more lopsided for it. He scanned over the tent sullenly with keen eyes. Nobody had to say a word. It was clear just what had happened from the way in which they were all sitting so solemnly, and it was clear from the way in which Vash's eyes narrowed that he understood.

"Edelstein," he said, "I never thought I'd say this again, but I need a word with you. Come on, get out now."

Roderich complied without a word of protest.

Their conversation seemed to go on forever. Erzsébet waited inside the tent like a hostage, unable to think properly, unable to listen to any of Lilli and Luca's casual conversation. One of the candles was coming to the end of its wick. She watched as the hot, red wax dripped onto the table and the smoke drifted towards the ceiling, not taking any of it in. Outside, Roderich and Vash were talking, and all her senses were overpowered by the uproarious drumming in her heart. She only managed to distract herself by asking Lilli and Luca to pose holding hands, and taking their picture.

When Vash returned, Roderich was not with him. Erzsébet rose from her chair instinctively, her hands clenched into fists. Vash took one look at her and snorted. "If you still think I'm capable of killing someone, you haven't got the measure of me at all. I don't fight any battles that I don't have to. The two-faced bastard is safe and running back to his own tent with his tail between his legs."

"Vash…" Lilli approached him cautiously, twisting her hands behind her back. "Vash, I'm so sorry that I thought—"

"No. _I'm_ sorry," Vash said gruffly, "I'm sorry for letting you believe that. For giving you a reason to believe that. It will never happen again."

He pulled her into a fierce hug and Lilli rested her forehead on his shoulder. Luca took an awkward step backwards.

"Er, Mr Zwingli?" he said after they broke apart.

" _Yes?_ What do you want?"

"Well, I was wondering… since Lilli and I missed Oktoberfest… I was wondering whether she'd like to come out drinking with me instead. Just around the bars in town!"

Vash's eyes were as sharp as slits. "No."

"Oh— oh _please_ , brother." Lilli tugged at his shirt, her cheeks tickled pink. "It would just be _one_ time, before we leave. Please let me go with him, it would make me so happy!"

"Luca's quite the gentleman," Erzsébet put in, "You couldn't find a more responsible young man if you tried to."

Vash considered the matter. "Fine, you can go. Although understand this, _Luca_ , if Lilli isn't back by midnight in the exact state in which she left, I really _will_ be committing a murder. And a very painful one at that." He waited a moment for the words to sink in before adding, "Also, you'd better be paying."

"All understood, Sir," Luca said, flicking his fringe, "So, Lilli, how about eight pm on Thursday?"

"That sounds wonderful!"

"Then it's a date!" He recoiled under Vash's fierce glare and stepped backwards again, accidentally hitting the table. "Er, I mean a—a date as in an appointment. Of course!"

"How fun," Vash said sarcastically.

Lilli looked up at him. "Are we going home now?"

"Soon. There's just one more thing I need to see to before we leave…" He locked eyes with Erzsébet and jerked his head toward the entrance. "You. Erzsébet, isn't it. We need to talk."

Erzsébet did not ask how he knew her name. She followed Vash outside until they were a short distance away from the tent, out of earshot. The evening curfew had passed by this point, and the inky black sky was speckled with stars. Erzsébet stood in the semi-darkness, shivering from the cold, and waited for Vash to speak. She had a sneaking suspicion of what this conversation might be about, and the thought sloshed around queasily in her stomach. What was he going to do, fight her? She might stand a chance if he didn't have a weapon…

But when Vash reached into his pocket, he pulled out not the pistol that Erzsébet was expecting, but a packet of cigarettes. He tore it open, put one into his mouth, and offered the rest to her.

Erzsébet waved them away. "I don't smoke."

"You will soon enough. I give it two months." Vash chuckled bitterly and lit his cigarette. The brief spark of fire illuminated the tired lines between his eyebrows. "Erzsébet, do you know why I make my living buying and selling watches?"

"Why?"

"Because a watch is something you can always rely on. Even a broken watch is right two times per day." He took a drag on the cigarette and blew a spiral of smoke into the night air. "You're falling in love with Roderich Edelstein, aren't you?'

The sharp change in conversation was highly jarring. Erzsébet felt a spasm of panic. "I… I…" _How did you answer that one?_ "…I'm sorry."

" _Don't_ apologise," Vash growled, "I'm not talking to you to make you feel bad, I'm talking to you to give you a warning."

Erzsébet's stomach sank. "Thanks, but I don't need one."

"Just hear me out. It's for your own good."

Erzsébet could see that he was not going to take no for an answer. A part of her wanted to stuff her fingers in her ears. But at the same time, another part of her— a crueller, more self-destructive side— desperately wanted to listen. Vash continued smoking in silence. The fumes billowed around them with their foggy, suffocating stench. The tip of the cigarette gleamed like a beady red eye in the darkness.

"I've known Roderich for a very long time now," Vash said, "I understand him a lot better than I'd like to. And in this time, I've come to realise two main things about him. Number one…" He paused to exhale another mouthful of thick smoke. "He is without a doubt the most beautiful man that I have ever laid eyes on."

Erzsébet nodded. She had given up all her childish denial, given up her embarrassment, and simply accepted what seemed like the most natural and obvious fact in the world. "Believe me, I didn't need you to tell me that."

"Number two," Vash continued, ignoring her, "The only person in existence who he gives a shit about is himself. Oh, he might try to persuade you otherwise— he'll wine you and dine you, take you out waltzing, and you'll be convinced that he's seen something special in you. And then the next morning you'll learn that the food from that romantic dinner you shared was only his leftovers from the day before. I just wish _I'd_ seen that as a sign…"

Vash's words brought on a swoop of sickening dismay, but the feeling was nowhere near as bad as the jeering _'I told you so'_ voice in the back of Erzsébet's mind. She opened her mouth to argue but the words refused to form. What sort of comeback based on a month of knowing Roderich could override everything Vash had been through?

"One thousand Euros, that watch cost me," Vash said, jabbing the air aggressively with his cigarette, _"One thousand Euros!_ I don't like spending my money, but I was prepared to do it jut once. For— for him. And then he ran off, and it turned out that everything he'd ever told me was a lie. How _fun_!"

Erzsébet's heart was growing heavier by the minute. It had been easy enough to sympathise with Roderich when he had told the story, but now that she was hearing Vash's side, it made her feel ill. "So what are you suggesting? That I ignore Roderich at all costs?"

Vash shook his head. "No. By all means you can be friends with him. You can even casually date him if you're into that sort of thing." He gazed up at the stars and sighed. For a moment, Erzsébet was sure she could see tears forming in those startling green eyes. "But if you want your heart to stay intact, then whatever you do, don't _ever_ allow yourself to fall in love."

* * *

 _To be continued next week..._

* * *

 _So, not quite the big reveal that last chapter suggested. It seems I didn't fool many people with that! Well done to those of you who managed to guess that there was a connection between Vash and Roderich (although it has to be said that nobody worked out exactly how they were connected :P)._

 _Also, I swear that the support for this story only seems to increase with every week. Thank you, lovely readers. Rest assured that I am eternally grateful for all the comments, faves, follows, and even all the views._


	13. Chapter 13

"Erzsébet, are you listening to me?"

Erzsébet lurched back into reality. "Whaaa— oh, yes, of course I am!"

In truth, she had not been paying attention to Roderich at all. Most of her concentration was focused on the other side of the breakfast table, where a very nervous Luca was convincing a very irritated Ludwig to bend the curfew rule for his upcoming date. Feliciano was helping out on Luca's behalf, offering all sorts of tempting deals to persuade Ludwig. Erzsébet was pretty sure that she heard him mention handcuffs and rope at one point, which conjured up a _very_ nice image indeed.

The other reason why she had not been listening was, of course, because of Vash. Erzsébet had spent all night turning his advice over in her mind, and it was driving her mad. Couldn't she just enjoy the pleasure of Roderich's company without worrying about what it meant? Apparently not. He was sitting opposite her now, finishing his breakfast croissant and sipping a meticulously prepared cup of coffee. Tiny flakes of pastry clung to the edge of his lips. It was hopelessly adorable, butErzsébet suppressed the customary flutter in her stomach. A _friend._ Roderich would only ever be a friend to her.

For something to do, she picked up her piece of toast and took a bite. "So, you were saying?" she asked.

Roderich rolled his eyes. "I was asking you, _if_ you had been listening, whether you've had a chance to do much investigating since Oktoberfest."

"Oh!" That was not a question she was expecting and it brought a pang of self-reproach. After Ludwig's rules, as well as all the excitement from yesterday, there had not been much time for detective work. "Not really. Why?"

"Because… well, it isn't that I don't have any faith in the _Kriminalpolizei,_ but one of them _is_ Officer Kølher, if you know what I mean."

"And you think a fortune teller would be better?"

"Last time, we made a suspects list, if you recall," said Roderich, "Would it be worth attempting again?"

Erzsébet scanned the table discreetly. The three-way argument was still going strong, but everyone else had finished breakfast already. "Alright then. Let's do it."

Roderich reached into the pocket of his overcoat for a pad of paper and fountain pen. "So, the two of us are… spoken for during Oktoberfest, obviously, but what of everyone else? Where was Ludwig? Feliciano?"

"Together," Erzsébet said, then when Roderich gave her a sceptical look, hastened to add, "Allegedly, that is. But, come on, you can't think that _Ludwig_ murdered his own brother. You can see how the death is affecting him."

Roderich scribbled something in the notebook. "Alfred?" he asked, without looking up.

"He was with the _Kriminalpolizei._ Mathias— Officer Kølher— started being sick and Alfred helped Officer Bondevik carry him to a bathroom."

"Very well. Lovino?"

Erzsébet lowered her toast, contemplating. "I… don't know. We didn't see him after he disappeared into the wine tent. And that was with—"

"Antonio," Roderich finished, "Yes, I remember. Well, until we gain more information about that, I think that both of them will have to go on our 'under suspicion' list."

Erzsébet hesitated. Calling Lovino a suspect was fair enough, but Antonio too? He seemed so sweet and harmless… "Alright. Fine," she conceded.

"I think that is everybody who visited Oktoberfest from the Circus," Roderich said, "Sebastiano and the van Rjins did not attend, correct?"

Erzsébet was about to agree, before she was hit with a stabbing realisation. _Or did they?_ She remembered standing outside the _Braurosl_ while Roderich caught his breath, and noticing two familiar figures pushing through the mass of bodies… Her blood turned cold at the thought.

"I'm not sure about that," she muttered, "Sebastiano and Luca, maybe, but the others… do you remember when you led us of course and we stopped to check the map."

"Vaguely, yes. Why?"

Erzsébet leaned in closer. "Because I saw Belle and Lars van Rjin. I took a picture of them hurrying through the crowds. They went to Oktoberfest too, I'm almost certain of it."

Roderich did not reply straight away, but gave her a long look over. Erzsébet wished he'd wipe his mouth. The pastry crumbs were making it all too easy for her to stare at his lips. "I don't suppose you still have that picture, do you?" he asked.

Erzsébet nodded, fishing into her pocket for the camera. She flicked back to the photograph of Oktoberfest, and passed it over to Roderich. He peered at the image closely, narrowing his eyes. "Erzsébet, this is incredibly blurred. I can barely make out anything."

"No, look." She jabbed her finger at the edge of the picture. "You can see Lars' quiff just _there."_

"Possibly, but I'm afraid it is too indistinct," Roderich said. He handed the camera back to her. "I'm not saying that I do not believe you, but this won't count as evidence."

"Then we'll need to get something that will."

The words were out of her mouth before Erzsébet could be completely sure what she meant by them. Roderich regarded her uncertainly. "E—excuse me?"

Erzsébet's heart pounded with excitement as a plan began to form in her mind. Her breakfast lay in a half-eaten pile, all forgotten now. "We need to act quickly if we want to find out what's going on. We need to investigate their caravan properly, and if they are hiding something, we need to find out what that is."

"Erzsébet… you know we can't break in anywhere."

"I'm suggesting _going_ in, not breaking in. There's a difference," Erzsébet said. Then, when Roderich continued to look scandalised, she added, "It's okay, I'm not forcing you to come. I'm quite happy to go alone if you prefer."

That did the trick. Roderich's eyebrows hardened and he slammed both hands onto the table, "No! You're not going alone. I—I absolutely forbid it!"

Unless Erzsébet was mistaken, there was just as much fear hiding in Roderich's voice as there was outrage. Sly warmth spilled into her veins as she contemplated what that might mean. "I've made up my mind already," she told Roderich seriously, "I understand that there's a lot risk involved, and I'm willing to take the chance. You can accompany me if you want, but I'm not going to force you."

Roderich answered immediately, "If you're going, then so am I."

Erzsébet nodded, pushed her plate aside, and stood up, "Great. Then let's go."

…

Five minutes later, Erzsébet was beginning to wonder whether this was a good idea after all. The van Rjin's caravan loomed ominously, suddenly seeming ten times its usual size. Yet this was nothing in comparison to Lars' greenhouse. Perhaps it was just the situation, but Erzsébet didn't think she had seen a more intimidating building in her life. Overgrown plants lined the windows, obscuring the interior. Dazzling floodlights were suspended from the inside roof, fierce enough to sting her eyes. Erzsébet swallowed hard, trying not to remember Lars' brutality when he found Peter and Charlotte inside.

A few knocks on the door revealed the caravan to be empty. Roderich then tried the handle, and the door swung open with a creak. Inside, the décor was cramped and utilitarian— all the cupboards and flooring made of lacquered wood. Two faded sofas and a bed lay on one side of the room, with a spotlessly tidy kitchen squashed into the other. Erzsébet guessed it would take a few minutes to search, and perhaps it was only a few minutes they had. She turned to Roderich. "We need to split up. You can stay and investigate here, and I'll go…" She paused, fighting back against the dread rising inside. "I'll go the greenhouse."

Roderich's expression darkened. "No you most certainly will not!"

"Yes I will. Think about it— we probably don't have long. Lars or Belle could return at any moment, and we need to search as much as we can before that happens."

"And if we get caught?" Roderich asked.

"Then I'll defend you. Don't you worry your pretty little head about—" Erzsébet stopped short, horrified. She had just called Roderich pretty. To his face. She braced herself, expecting a tirade of haughty irritation, but Roderich did not look irritated. If anything, that was a _flattered_ expression. Erzsébet ignored her quickening heartbeat as she struggled to cover for her mistake. "We'll— we'll get through together, okay?"

Roderich closed his eyes with a pained expression. "I… understand. But please Erzsébet, kindly refrain from doing anything overly reckless while you are inside. I do not wish to see you hurt any more than you do me."

"I'll do my best," Erzsébet said, and climbed out of the caravan door.

The grass brushed against her ankles as she ran to the greenhouse. Unbidden images flashed through Erzsébet's mind; Lars catching her inside, Lars stabbing her, Lars leaving her body to bleed out among the plants. She forced herself to shake them away. She was just being silly. If she took Roderich's advice and didn't do anything reckless, nothing was going to happen to her. There was no lock on the greenhouse door. Swallowing past a tense knot of anxiety in her throat, Erzsébet pushed it ajar and stepped inside.

An unanticipated blast of heat washed over her immediately. Erzsébet gasped out loud. This wasn't the mild warmth expected of a greenhouse— this was oppressively humid. She tugged her jumper off and held it under her arm. Beads of sweat were already forming across the back of her neck, and her skin felt oddly sticky. Was it natural to grow plants in a near-tropical environment? Perhaps that was what she was going to discover. Erzsébet edged forwards slowly, taking care not to tread on the orchids arranged in pots on the floor. She didn't think she'd ever seen such a vast array of different plants in her life. There were tulips in incubators; luscious ferns and white arum lilies; tomato plants with swelling produce; leafy shoots with jagged green edges… too much to take in all at once. A pungent scent hung about the air— somewhere between exotic perfume, spices and burnt popcorn. Overhead, a heater whirred continuously, the sound ringing in her ears.

"Can I help you?"

The voice was like a whip crack. Erzsébet looked up and her heart shuddered to a halt. _Fuck, fuck, fuck!_ Lars van Rjin had emerged from behind a bushy plant at the back of the greenhouse and stood directly in her eye-line, arms folded and a wide-brimmed straw hat on his head. Watching her.

It was as if all of her worst nightmares were coming true. For one frenzied moment, Erzsébet considered running for her life. Upon the realisation that this would not be very practical, she gulped down a few breaths and met his gaze. Guilt seared over her skin, even hotter than the sweltering air.

"Let me guess," Lars said, narrowing his eyes, "You thought you would stick your nose into our caravan, and had a good snoop around there. And when you grew bored of that, you came along and stuck your nose in here too!"

Erzsébet's mind was reduced to a fuzzy blur. "How did you…? I didn't think you…"

"You thought that because you could not hear or see anyone, I would not be in here? I am quieter than you would imagine when I am gardening." He took a step towards her. "So you thought wrong."

The atmosphere was almost too hot and too tense to endure. Her pulse racing painfully in her ears, Erzsébet forced herself to speak, "Actually… I was looking for you."

"That so?"

"Yes. I wanted to ask you about… about Oktoberfest."

"That so?"

" _Yes!_ You and Belle claimed you didn't come to the festival, but when I was there, I spotted both of you in the crowds. You— you must have been lying."

Lars' expression remained impassive. "You spotted us at Oktoberfest? Now what _would_ we be doing there?"

"Isn't that what you are supposed to tell me?"

"I don't think so."

Talking to Lars began to feel distinctly like dancing along the top of a time bomb— never quite sure where to tread, never quite sure when it was going to explode. Overhead, the heater whirred and whirred.

"Well luckily enough, I've got evidence." Erzsébet said. She pulled out her camera and brandished it challengingly. _"Photographic_ evidence."

Lars did not move a muscle. "Show me."

Obeying a command was the last thing Erzsébet wanted to do, but she made herself stride over, and flung the camera into Lars' hands. _"There."_ She glared at him intensely, masking her gripping fear with anger.

Lars surveyed the image for a second before snorting. "That is not me."

"Yes it is," Erzsébet said through gritted teeth.

"You think I'm the only man alive with gelled blond hair, do you? You really should get out more." He handed the camera back to her in his large, muddy hand. "Go ahead and run to the _Kripo_ if you like, but they can't identify me from this."

"I know what I saw," said Erzsébet, "You were there. You were there and you know it."

"Then you must have been mistaken."

They stared at each other in silence. Erzsébet compelled herself not to quail under his penetrating gaze.

"I will say this for you clearly, and only one time," Lars said after a moment, "Neither I not Belle were at Oktoberfest. You have no proof to suggest otherwise."

"No, but—"

"Do you not think that Luca or Sebastiano would have spoken up if they saw us depart at any point?"

"Yes, but—"

Lars took another step towards her. "I think you had better leave now, don't you?"

Perhaps it was the heat, perhaps it was the trying pressure, but something caused all of Erzsébet's frustration to sharpen to a single point. Suddenly, she could hold it in no longer. "Fuck you!" she spat, body shaking and hands curling into fists, "I'm not going to let you get away with this, you bastard!"

Lars' eyes flashed menacingly. "Run along home, little detective."

For a split second, Erzsébet considered punching him. She thought better of it a moment later. She had never been so patronised or humiliated in her life, but what else could she do? Erzsébet vented her frustration by flipping Lars the middle finger, then began to retreat. She refused to turn, refused to break the gaze until her heel brushed against the entrance and she stepped outside. The cold, crisp October air came as a relief, but it did little to cool her burning indignation. In a final act of spite, she slammed the door behind her as hard as she could.

Roderich was waiting for her by the caravan when she stormed back. He looked like he was chewing something, and spoke with his mouth full. "Ah, Erzsébet! Was your escapade a success?"

"It was an absolute disaster." Erzsébet said. She resisted the urge to give the side of the caravan a good kick. "I didn't find anything at all and— wait, what the hell are you doing?"

"Oh." Roderich swallowed and glanced at the half-eaten treat in his hand. "I am eating a waffle," he said, as if it was the most obvious course of action imaginable.

Erzsébet gaped at him. "We only had breakfast about ten minutes ago."

"Well, they were simply lying in the cupboard, asking to be eaten. And they really are quite delicious." Roderich popped the last piece into his mouth and sighed in satisfaction, _"Mmmmm…"_

Erzsébet rolled her eyes. Trust Roderich to distract himself with his own sweet tooth! "Did you find anything important?"

"I found waffles."

"So I gathered," Erzsébet said sardonically. God, could this morning get any more exasperating? "Come on, let's go. Luck clearly wasn't on our side today."

Roderich hopped up, looking innocently bemused. He followed Erzsébet as she strode back through the field, muttering to herself angrily. "Of course, he didn't explain anything. I don't know why I even expected him to! I bet he spends all his time in that stupid, boiling greenhouse. I mean— what a creep! I wouldn't be surprised if he suffocated in there, in fact I hope he does!"

"Erzsébet—"

"How dare he refuse to give us information? How dare he treat me like a child? I know he's up to something and I'm going to make him pay for it if it's the last—"

"Erzsébet!"

She whipped around. Roderich was struggling to keep up behind her, his breathing already heavy and his expression mildly apologetic. "May we… slow down a little?" he said.

"Oh, sorry." She dropped her pace and gave Roderich a chance to catch up. She was still fuming over the incident in the greenhouse and could barely keep quiet for two minutes before another tirade burst out, "The whole thing's useless, isn't it? I _know_ he and Belle were at Oktoberfest, but we can't fucking prove it!"

"Please do not despair," Roderich said, "Why, it does not do at all to despair on a day as fine as this one!"

Erzsébet glanced up sceptically. The sky was clouded and murky, like an upturned bowl of grey. So much for'fine' _._ Come to think of it, Roderich did not quite seem himself. His eyes were slightly unfocused; he was even slower and more lethargic than usual. She was about to ask him whether he was all right when Roderich suddenly staggered without warning.

"Hey! What's wrong?"

Roderich managed to straighten himself again to appear reasonably dignified. "Nothing is wrong. Nothing at all! Can I not trip with out arousing supsiss—spiciss—?" His sentence dissolved into a fit of high pitched giggling.

Erzsébet frowned. "You seem very… happy all of a sudden."

"I have every right to be happy! It is a glorious time to be alive," Roderich said. He took a determined step and, this time, sprawled towards the ground.

"Roderich!" Erzsébet shrieked, darted forwards, and caught him just in time. His fragile body sagged alarmingly in her arms. The world started to crumble, started to spiral to a halt. No… _please_ , no… "Roderich, talk to me!" Erzsébet shook him firmly. "Tell me you're okay, tell me you can see, please tell me you're—"

"I am perfectly well," Roderich said. He seemed dazed, as if he had just awoken from a dream, but he was mercifully conscious. "Merely… tired."

Erzsébet found herself able to breathe once more, although her stomach coiled with worry. "Yes. It's alright, I'll take you back to your tent straight away. Can you walk?" _Can you even stand?_

Roderich blinked in blearily confusion. It looked like it was a considerable effort. "I… fear I cannot."

The coil of worry wound even tighter. "That's fine, no problem at all. I can carry you instead."

"No." Roderich said promptly, "No, I don't think you can."

"And why might this be?"

Roderich scowled to himself, agonisingly beautiful in his haughtiness. _"Because…_ I think you'll find that _I_ am a gentleman, and _you_ are a lady. It would be exceedingly improper."

In spite of her fear, Erzsébet found herself caught momentarily between irritation and amusement, "And I think _you'll_ find that you are ill and I am strong enough to carry you." She stood upright and hoisted Roderich up into her arms to demonstrate. "See? Easy peasy."

"Hmmm, so you can," Roderich said, vaguely impressed, "Who would have thought it?"

The weight was a surprisingly comfortable one. Roderich's shoulder blades and the bend in his knees rested against her arms as if they belonged there somehow. Erzsébet's worry had not quite ebbed away, but began to transform itself into hazy disbelief that this was actually happening and, worse still, a maddening sense of need. She walked as quickly as she could while supporting Roderich's weight. Just five minutes and they'd be back in Ludwig's tent. Just five minutes and then they could find out what was the matter with him. Roderich bobbed up and down with the movement. His arms hung limply at his sides and his glasses started to slip down his long nose. Eventually, they slid right off the end and landed with a bump on his chin.

"Oh!" Roderich said, his surprise adorably childlike. He made an attempt to lift his arms, but they ended up flopping straight down again. "Erzsébet, I don't suppose you'd be so kind as to…?"

Erzsébet couldn't resist those pleading eyes. "Alright, alright. Hold still." She shifted Roderich's weight to free her left hand and clumsily raised the silver rims back into position.

"Yes, that is much better. Thank you." Roderich settled back in her arms with a contented sigh. "Although… I do not actually require these spectacles to see, you know."

Now that _was_ a bizarre revelation. Erzsébet wasn't sure whether to believe it. "Are you sure? You're always wearing them," she said.

"I know. But the glass is fake in actual fact. These are purely aesthetic." Roderich hummed tranquilly. "I wear them because my face looks exceedingly plain and unattractive without any accessories."

Erzsébet almost choked in incredulity. She wasn't sure that her emotions could deal with a confession like that. It was so heartbreakingly honest and so untrue that all her senses were crying out for her to oppose it. Yet all she ended up saying was, "Really?"

"Oh yes," Roderich murmured. He tilted his head thoughtfully. "Hmmm… I used to be so afraid of telling you that. I feared that you might mistake insecurity for vanity. I feared that it might mean you would not like me. Perhaps I was merely being silly."

 _Oh._ This time, Erzsébet was sure of it; she _definitely_ couldn't deal with a confession like that. A painful lump stuck in her throat. The instinct to cuddle Roderich and tell him just how much he meant to her was growing difficult to resist.

"You _were_ being silly. Your face is…" _Beguiling. Gorgeous. Devastatingly handsome._ "Absolutely fine. It's not like you've got horrible scars or anything."

"No, that is true," Roderich said, still in that worryingly dreamy tone of voice, "Perhaps I might remove my glasses more often in future."

"That sounds nice."

Roderich nuzzled his head against her shoulder. "Only in front of you, however."

Erzsébet bit her lip. He _really_ wasn't making this easy for her. "That sounds even nicer."

"Erzsébet," Roderich said quietly, after a long, comfortable silence, "Erzsébet, I am so very tired…"

Erzsébet's insides squeezed impatiently. All of a sudden, Roderich's weight seemed five times heavier. She had to keep talking to him; she had to keep his eyes open. "It's okay, we'll be at the tent soon… just a little bit further," she said, "Just a little bit further and you'll be with Ludwig again."

Roderich made a grumbling noise. "But I don't want to be with Ludwig. I only want to be with _you."_

Erzsébet felt a tingle of pleasure leap up her spine. Oh no, this wasn't fair… this wasn't fair in the slightest. She chose to act as if she hadn't heard him and focused on walking instead, focused on carrying Roderich to safety. A gust of wind swept through as they continued, ruffling Roderich's soft hair out of place.

He sighed drowsily. "These lights are pretty."

"Which lights?" Erzsébet asked, "There are no lights, Roderich. You're hallucinating."

"You mean that you cannot see them? Now that _is_ a shame. They are bright and colourful and extraordinarily beautiful…" His voice was little more than a whisper now; his expression glazed and absent. "You know, they do not even seem to disappear when I close my eyes…"

 _No!_ Erzsébet's grip tightened. "Roderich, listen to me. You've got to keep your eyes open. It's important."

"But I could drift off to sleep in an instant. It is never usually this easy for me. It would be so pleasant…"

"Don't close your eyes! Please, just stay awake for now, only a little bit longer." She willed her voice not to break and increased her pace, "Only a little bit longer, and then you can go straight to bed. _I'll_ put you to bed myself. _Please!"_

Roderichpoutedin consideration. "Will you kiss me goodnight?"

"I…" Erzsébet swallowed. _He's delusional. He's only saying these things because he's delusional._ "Well, it's not actually night-time yet but…"

Presently, another voice shattered their bubble, "Hey! Hey missus!"

Erzsébet did not stop, but turned briefly to process Peter bouncing towards her, Charlotte in tow. "Oh. Hello."

"We've been doing loads of investigations!" Peter said, bobbing up and down. He was wearing his sailor suit again. Erzsébet had never noticed before just how ludicrously small it was. "Guess what, guess what? We think we know who the murderer is now, it's L—"

Charlotte jabbed him in the ribs. " Shut up! You're not supposed to tell anyone, you knucklehead."

"Great. Well done," Erzsébet said in a deadened tone of voice, "Now, I hate to say it, but now is really not—"

"Oooh, who are you carrying?" To her annoyance, Peter sprang by her side as she tried to hurry off, tugging at her jumper. "Is he your boyfriend?"

Her stomach jolted. _Don't be silly; it's an easy mistake to make._ Erzsébet started walking faster, not even looking in Peter's direction. "No, he's a friend. Now, if you could just—"

"I bet he _is,"_ Peter said, and began signing triumphantly, _"Erzsébet and Glasses-Man sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g!"_

"Do you know where Mr Sebastiano's tent is?" Charlotte asked, popping up by her other side, "He seemed nice."

"It's around. Somewhere. You can find it." Erzsébet was speaking at random, barely aware of what she was saying. Roderich's body seemed limper now, and his eyes were gradually drooping shut…

" _First comes love, then comes marriage…"_

"Can't you just tell us? We know where your tent it, _and_ Mr Alfred's."

" _Then comes the baby in the golden carriage!"_

Every word grated at Erzsébet's worn patience. Her nerves were a spring of anxiety, tightening and tightening by the second. Unable to bear it any longer, she whirled around and raised her voice, _"Look,_ I'd love to hear about your investigations, but _not now!_ Roderich's tired, he's ill, I don't know what's wrong with him, and— and—" She choked back an agitated sob. _"Please_ just leave me alone."

Erzsébet did not wait for a reply before turning and hastening away, so quickly that Roderich's body lurched up and down. Peter and Charlotte seemed to be shouting after her, but the words were incomprehensible, distant, a million miles away. There were only two important things in the world right now— the fragile young man in her arms, and whether she would be able to make it to the tent in time.

"I… thought you enjoyed the company of children, Erzsébet…?" Roderich said. His voice was reedy and hollow, but still there.

"I do usually. But usually I…" _Usually I don't have to worry about the man I'm infatuated with dying on me._ "Usually I have more patience."

"Of course you do, of course… you'd make a fine parent… so much better than I would…"

At this point, Roderich seemed to be mostly muttering in his sleep. Erzsébet reminded herself to get a grip, and continued walking. A couple of minutes later, she finally arrived at the Ringmaster's tent. The main area was unoccupied, so Erzsébet pushed through into the sleeping compartment without thinking twice.

"Ludwig! Quick, this is important, you need to…" She trailed off immediately. Feliciano had been shoved onto a chair in the middle of the room; dressed in nothing more than boxers and one of Roderich's fluffy cloths bound over his mouth. Ludwig stood up abruptly and backed away from him with such speed that he crashed into the bed behind. A pair of open handcuffs dangled from his hands, and his face was red and panicked.

"Erzsébet! What the hell do you think…?" Suddenly, he noticed Roderich's body suspended in her arms. His cheeks drained of colour. "Oh no… please don't say, _please_ …"

"You need to call someone." Erzsébet said. Completely ignoring what would normally have been quite a magnificent scene, she carried Roderich over to his bed and placed him down. "A doctor, an ambulance— anyone."

Ludwig dropped the handcuffs and rushed over. "What happened to him?"

"I don't know, I don't know! He started going strange, smiling and laughing, and then he completely lost his balance." Erzsébet wrung her hands. Since she had brought him inside, Roderich had made no signs that he could hear them. He simply seemed consumed in contented, faraway tranquillity. Watching him made Erzsébet feel sick and hot and dizzy all at once.

Ludwig fumbled with Roderich's wrist. "There is a pulse there. And he appears to be breathing in regular intervals. He is still alive."

"Yes, but for how long?"

"Ve~ Mr Roderich won't die," said Feliciano. He had stood up by now and was in the process of removing his gag. "He looks just like Sebastiano does sometimes, and he always turns out okay!"

Ludwig glanced at him, half-humiliated, half-exasperated. "Feliciano, please put some trousers on," he muttered.

Feliciano ignored him. "I mean it! He gets all drowsy and happy and funny too. Was Mr Roderich talking about pretty lights at all?"

Erzsébet stopped frantically scanning Roderich and met Feliciano's gaze. "Yes. Yes, he was actually."

"Ve~ then it _is_ the same thing as Sebastiano has! He'll be back to normal in a few hours if you just give him time to rest."

Relief flooded Erzsébet's body, but it was mingled with doubt. Feliciano sounded so earnest, and she desperately wanted to believe him. But what did his word have against Roderich's terrifyingly sapped strength and Tino's forewarning that there would be other murder victims to come?

Ludwig seemed to be thinking similarly. "I think we ought to call someone anyway. Just to be on the safe side." He rose to his feet. "I'll get my phone. Come with me, Feliciano, but please put some clothes on first."

Feliciano snatched up a pair of crumpled trousers from the floor and followed Ludwig out of the room. Just before he left, he stopped to wink at Erzsébet and began humming something that sounded suspiciously like _That's Amore._ Erzsébet flushed, but paid it no attention. She diverted her focus back on Roderich. Once more, they had been left entirely alone.

After all the panic and noise, it was quiet in the tent— almost impossibly calm. Roderich lay silently on the bed with the tiniest of smiles upon his face. His chest rose and fell, and rose again. Erzsébet's knees were beginning to ache from kneeling, but she didn't dare to move. Hesitantly, she rested her hand on Roderich's silky hair and stroked it gently. She felt trapped in a confusing limbo of emotions; both wanting him to wake up immediately, and secretly hoping that he remained in this state forever.

"Mmm…" Roderich murmured suddenly, "M—mutti…"

Erzsébet jerked to attention. "You're awake!"

But Roderich's eyes remained closed and he continued breathing deeply, steadily, through his mumbling. "Are you going to… kiss me goodnight, Mutti? I would enjoy that…"

"I'm not your mother," she said, "I'm Erzsébet, remember?"

"Erzsébet…" Her name sounded like reverence on his lips. "I think… I would enjoy that even more…"

His chest heaved with the effort of a small snore, then he was still once again. And— _oh_ — watching him was like torture. It was somehow heartbreaking for Erzsébet to look at this foolish, uptight, slumbering man and know that he meant everything to her. She ran her hand over his cheek and her heart began to race. She would regret this later, but right now she could not help but indulge herself in the moment. Just for a single second, she let herself entertain the possibility that Vash Zwingli could be wrong. That she and Roderich could be more than friends for longer than a casual few months.

Bending her head, Erzsébet pressed her lips right on the tip of Roderich's long, straight nose. "Sweet dreams," she whispered, "And get well soon. _Please."_

* * *

 _To be continued next week..._

* * *

 _Dear readers, you are all wonderful. I only hope that the story is entertaining enough to warrant the amazing comments I receive with every chapter. :)_


	14. Chapter 14

Outside the sleeping compartment, Erzsébet gripped tightly onto her courage and the loaded tea-tray. It had been eight hours since Roderich's strange turn, and the thought of speaking to him again filled her with apprehension. How much would he remember? How much did she even _want_ him to remember? Erzsébet decided not to think too hard about that, and stepped inside.

"Good evening, Roderich!"

The only response was a low groan of anguish. A huge, Roderich-shaped bulge had manifested under the quilt on the third bed, with one unruly hair sticking out.

"Ludwig said you were feeling better, so I brought you some dinner," Erzsébet continued, "It's pork stew with dumplings and pickled cabbage. There's a glass of water here too. Shall I leave it by your bed?"

Another grumble, and Roderich's head popped out from underneath the covers. His hair was only slightly rumpled, but Erzsébet was consoled by the fact that he looked every bit as flustered as she felt. "Erzsébet." He stared fixedly at the tray in her hands. "Thank you kindly. That really is exceedingly thoughtful of you."

Erzsébet set the tray down on Roderich's bedside table. "I'm just glad to see you're recovering. It's weird that you don't know what happened, isn't it?"

"Mmmm," Roderich said, reaching for the glass of water, "I have never suffered from hallucinations like _those_ before, even when feverish."

Erzsébet shuffled awkwardly, uncertain of whether or not to ask the next question. "So, does that mean you remember what happened? Earlier on?"

Roderich briefly closed his bloodshot eyes, and then opened them again. "Mostly," he said, "I—I do apologise for all the terrible trouble I put you through."

Oh, but he was _so_ adorable when ruffled like that. Erzsébet forced a professional smile, twisting her hands behind her back. "It was no trouble at all! Really."

"And I… I would advise you not to pay much attention to anything I said. Wh—while you were carrying me, that is."

"I wasn't going to," Erzsébet said, a little too quickly, "It's obvious that you weren't in your right mind."

"Ah, good. You consideration is making this a lot easier," Roderich said. He busied himself with a mouthful of stew, swallowed, and finished rather lamely, "Er, I thank you for the food as well."

Oh. That was probably the cue for an exit. Bidding a hasty goodbye, Erzsébet turned to leave. Everything felt fuzzy and her head was ringing with uncertainty. She wasn't quite sure whether that reunion had been the best-case scenario, or the worst.

"Oh, and Erzsébet?"

She turned back. "Yes?"

Roderich's expression had changed. Now he looked serious rather than nervous, meaningful rather than stubbornly stoic. When he spoke, his voice was laced with genuine sincerity, "I want you to understand that I truly am grateful for what you did for me today."

Embarrassment. Confusion. Instinctive delight. Erzsébet ignored her traitorous emotions and simply nodded. "You're welcome."

…

Upon returning to her tent, Erzsébet knew there was only one course of action she could take next. The mysteries surrounding Lars and Roderich's illness were aggravating her mind like rashes, and since all mundane investigations had yielded nothing, prophecy would have to be her last resort. Too impatient for candles and incense, she retrieved her crystal ball and immediately set about warming its glass surface. Her emerald green aura bobbed into view to greet her.

It was just as the mists were beginning to focus when a visitor burst into her tent. Erzsébet felt a surge of blue light strike her, and fumbled to hide her equipment. Then, she realised who it was. _"Alfred?"_

"Erzsébet!" Alfred ran a hand through his hair, sighing in relief. "Thank God you're here! Thank God I got someone in time!"

"Why? What's the matter?" Erzsébet asked. Her heart froze at the sight of his troubled expression.

Alfred did not answer, but gestured beyond the tent. Feeling immensely confused, and not to mention scared, Erzsébet followed him outside. She blinked into the thick, October-evening gloom. "What is it? I can't see anything out here."

Alfred put a shaky hand on her shoulder and pointed. "There. D'you see it now?"

Erzsébet squinted at a pinprick of light in the distance. Just outside the Circus grounds, somebody was carrying a lantern and striding hurriedly over the grass. Somebody familiar. Erzsébet could not believe it. "Is that _Antonio?"_

"I only just spotted him," Alfred said, toying with the collar of his checked shirt, "I thought I ought to find someone, because of the rules. You think he got Ludwig's permission?"

Erzsébet did not need to do any detective work to know the answer to that. Antonio's pace was too hasty, his movements too surreptitious, and she couldn't imagine why he would have a legitimate reason for leaving the grounds alone. "I doubt it," she said.

"Oh _shit,"_ said Alfred. His low breath tickled the hairs of her neck. "So, does that mean…?"

"It doesn't necessarily mean anything. But that's just the problem, isn't it?" Erzsébet said. A fearful shiver ran down her spine. "We don't know whether he's going off on a perfectly innocent little outing, and if it _isn't_ innocent, we don't know about that either."

Alfred had not taken his hand away from Erzsébet's shoulder, nor his gaze from Antonio's steadily departing figure. He nodded slowly.

"What do you want to do?" Erzsébet whispered, although she knew there could only be one response.

"I know what I _want_ to do," Alfred said, "But I'm not sure whether it's right."

Neither was Erzsébet. The very concept of Antonio— carefree, idiotic Antonio—being involved in two cases of murder went against all her senses. More importantly, he was still a person, and did people really deserve to be spied on? Yet every step Antonio took away from the Circus grounds felt like a punch in the gut. "Do you think we can afford to let that stop us?" she asked.

Alfred squared his jaw and puffed up his chest. He had the air of somebody who was about to do something very unpleasant, not because he wanted to but because it was his duty. _"Hell_ no."

Erzsébet slipped a hand into her pockets. _Phone? Check. Digital camera? Check. Weapon? … She'd have to make do without._ "Then we follow."

…

The streets were dark and empty at this hour. It was not difficult for Erzsébet and Alfred to track Antonio's movements, nor to keep themselves hidden in the shadows. As it turned out, Antonio was heading for the train station, where he purchased a ticket and boarded a train bound for Munich. Erzsébet found this development thoroughly bafflig, but had little choice but to continue the pursuit.

Fifteen minutes later, she sat silently in her cramped U-Bahn seat— the roar of the train in her ears and a thrill of trepidation in her heart. It was nearing the end of the rush hour, and the line was at its most crowded. Erzsébet was squashed between an overweight businessman and a woman reading _Munchner Merkur_ with a hacking cough. Alfred sat diagonally opposite, in a position that gave him a skewed view of Antonio in the next carriage. Whenever the train shuddered to a halt at a new stop, he craned his neck to watch Antonio's position, before relaxing again and shaking his head. The routine became painfully repetitive. Erzsébet had no idea how long they had been sitting there, nor how much longer they would have to wait. All she knew was that Antonio was in the next carriage. Antonio was in the next carriage, and the thought made her feel sick with fear.

Alfred finally gave the nod when they arrived at a station called _Giesing,_ several stops away from the Munich city centre. Erzsébet had never been there before. She stepped off the train, feeling the rush of warm air sweeping against her clothes as it departed. Alfred spotted Antonio hurrying towards the escalator, so they followed a short distance behind. Now that they were in the light, Erzsébet noticed that Antonio was carrying something under his left arm. She risked moving a few paces closer to see more clearly. It was a bouquet— a small, slightly clumsily made bouquet of white lilies. Erzsébet squinted, wondering at first whether she was seeing things. What on earth was Antonio doing that required him to bring _flowers?_

She did not have long to wait before the question was answered. Antonio led them of them out of the station and down a couple of narrow, twisted lanes encompassed by darkened trees. It was only the three of them now. Erzsébet held her breath, cringing whenever their footsteps echoed on the ground, desperately hoping— praying— that he had not heard them. A couple of minutes later, a towering chapel came into view behind a copse of trees. Antonio's pace quickened as he approached it. Erzsébet swallowed uncomfortably. Outside the chapel were rows upon rows of white marble graves.

"A cemetery?" Alfred whispered next to her, "After all this and he's come to a _cemetery?"_

Erzsébet nodded, a queasy feeling bubbling inside. The dizzying fear was ebbing away now, and she found herself numbed with sudden guilt. Had she and Alfred just stumbled upon a very private and personal moment? She had no time to contemplate the matter further, however. Antonio paused from inspecting the first row of graves and, turning his head slightly, spoke. His voice rang out clear and bizarrely reassuring through the silence, "Hey, it's fine for you to talk to me. I don't mind."

Erzsébet's heart almost stopped in her chest. What the—? He _knew?_ She had no choice now but to shuffle forwards— awkwardly and shamefully, as if preparing to go to confession. But when she approached close enough to see Antonio's face, the light of the lantern showed his brilliant green eyes to be just as cheerful as ever.

"Wow… Antonio…" Alfred said, stuttering slightly, "I… I didn't…"

"You followed me. It's okay, I don't blame you for it." Antonio laughed softly. "I think I'd have even followed myself." Flicking his lantern to the side, he stooped to read the illuminated tombstones. The nearest one caught Erzsébet's eye. It was dated from the 1920s.

"How did you know we were there?" she asked. It sounded childish, reproachful even, but it was all she could think of saying.

Antonio laughed again, but he did not look up. "I'm not _that_ oblivious! It's not too hard to recognise you when you're wearing your flower, you know."

Erzsébet cringed, irritated with herself. The hair ornament had been a present from her grandmother when she was a child. She was so used to wearing it by now that she often forgot she had it on at all. Abruptly, Antonio straightened and moved off down the row. The lantern swung from side to side, sending a pale slither of light dancing over the ground. Erzsébet and Alfred followed a couple of steps behind him. He was muttering to himself as he walked, harshly, frantically, his accent growing thicker. "Where is it? _Dios,_ where is it? Got to be around here… got to be…"

"Do you want us to leave?" Erzsébet asked tentatively.

"No, you can stay. I'd be glad of the company," Antonio said. He rounded a corner into another row of graves. _"Mierda,_ have they moved it?"

Overhead, an owl hooted. Aside from the ghostly lantern light, the night was pitch black, and it suddenly felt very cold too. Erzsébet began shivering as she trailed past the stark white tombstones. Occasionally, an engraving caught her eye— the dates appeared to be growing more recent the further they went— but Antonio continued walking, continued muttering, continued swinging the lantern. Erzsébet did not ask who or what he was looking for. She wasn't even sure she wanted to know anymore.

Eventually, Antonio came to a halt before a grave a few places from the end of the row. There was something final about the way he stopped, and turned, and stared. It was as if the world had paused to catch its breath, trapping the three of them in this surreal moment of bittersweet stillness.

"It's here!" Antonio breathed. He raised his lantern-hand to cross himself clumsily. "Oh _Gracias a Dios_ , it's here!"

Even without the artificial light, the white marble of the headstone seemed to glow like a jewel in the darkness. Erzsébet did not have to stoop or squint to make out the engraving; the words were already bright and clear:

Francis Bonnefoy

1974 - 2006

 _Vivre sans aimer n'est pas proprement vivre_

Erzsébet couldn't understand the French, but neither did she have to. The rest of the engraving told the story in its place. A heavy pressure pushed on her chest as she calculated the dates in her head. Thirty-two. This man had only been thirty-two years old when he died.

"Was this guy a friend of yours?" Alfred asked.

Antonio sucked in a deep breath before answering. "Yes. There was a time when… when he was my best friend in all of the world."

The youthful lines of his face, so often smooth and untroubled, looked ten times older under the lantern's glow. Erzsébet's lungs felt like lead but, feeling a pang of morbid curiosity, she could not help but blurt out the insensitive question, "How did it happen? If—if you don't mind me asking."

"He committed suicide." Antonio said, in a slightly strangled voice. He had not removed his gaze from the headstone ever since he laid eyes on it.

"I'm so sorry," Erzsébet whispered, "Oh Antonio, I'm so sorry."

Antonio shrugged, but remained silent.

Erzsébet was not sure whether it was from the air or from the graves but the cold now felt like it was settling into her very bones. She hunched over a little, trying not to shiver as Antonio spoke into the silence,

"Grief is such a funny thing, isn't it? Not amusing funny, of course, strange funny. Francis took his life eight years ago, but the loss is still so very raw and real." He swallowed mechanically, his Adam's apple working in his throat. "It's in the little things, you know? Chanel perfume… Parisian-style cafes… Merlot wine… silly things that should make me feel happy but give me such a pang of emptiness instead. Oh, if only he were still alive today! We'd have such wonderful things to talk about." Antonio's voice grew huskier until it was barely more than a whisper.

Alfred took a step closer. "I understand, bro," he said, "Really, I do."

And— although her pain was not as long-held as his— Erzsébet understood too. In that moment, she felt fiercely drawn to the mouldering remains of this man she had never met. Remains that neither knew nor cared about the friend standing above them, his heart inflamed with burning sorrow. She imagined visiting Feliks and Gilbert's graves in years to come and feeling that same sense of clinging attachment towards something that was barely even a part of them any more. The cool white marble twinkled as Erzsébet's eyes bore into it, and her skin began to tingle. Would Feliks and Gilbert have graves like these— uniform and nondescript and standing in a neat row with hundreds of others? Or would they prefer to be cremated? She had never discussed it with either of them… never even thought to ask…

"Antonio? What about the flowers?" Alfred asked, "Were you going to put the flowers over his grave?"

Antonio jerked sharply, apparently shaken from his memories. "Oh. Yes, of course." He crouched down and laid the bouquet on the overgrown grass before the headstone. It looked strangely tatty in comparison to the intricate marble. "Belle let me have those from her brother's greenhouse," he said, "It's not much, but Francis would have been grateful. Lilies were always his most favourite. Apart from red roses, of course, but that wouldn't be appropriate from me…"

Ah. Now that was the other impertinent question that Erzsébet had been wondering about but hadn't dared to ask. "So, you two weren't…?"

"No. He was a lot older than me, so ours was only ever a friendship," Antonio said quickly. His dark, messy locks slipped casually between his fingers. "I still don't really know why. Why he did it, I mean. I lost contact with Francis at one point, and only found out that he'd been part of the Fireball Circus after his death. That's how I joined actually… I'd been searching for him for so long and I had to settle somewhere afterwards. Perhaps it was so I could feel connected to him again. I doubt he knew anyone else in our troop, though. _Dios,_ eight years is such a long time…"

Erzsébet didn't know what to say. The way Antonio talked about this friendship was so heart rendering, so honest and so pure that any words she could give in response could only end up sounding empty. On his other side, Alfred seemed similarly lost for words.

"I know that it was wrong for me to come here, without telling Ludwig first, but I couldn't stay away," Antonio continued, "Not today, not on the eight-year anniversary of his death. Especially not when this is all I've got left of him. Well, this and the memories, but memories aren't solid." He chuckled so sadly that the sound made Erzsébet's spine prickle. "All I can say is that I'm sorry."

Erzsébet wished she could tell him that there was no need to be sorry. That an apology following such heartfelt words made her sick with shame to think that she'd ever suspected him. But in the end, she did the only thing that made sense. She took a step towards the grave, bowed her head, and muttered homage. "To Francis Bonnefoy."

"To Francis Bonnefoy," Antonio and Alfred echoed back.

…

By the time they back arrived at the circus, it was already past midnight. Erzsébet bid Antonio goodbye at his tent and continued on the short distance to hers. Alfred walked beside her in silence. He had been uncharacteristically morose on the journey home, even as Antonio began to revert to his normal self. Erzsébet guessed that the guilt of what they'd done was still affecting him.

"Are you alright?" she asked him cautiously.

Alfred shrugged. "I guess so? Kinda wish we hadn't followed, but maybe it turned out okay in the end. I don't think Antonio's mad at us."

"No. Although he'd have every right to be after that."

"Do you…" Alfred's voice cracked as he spoke, so he coughed and started again, "Do you think we made the wrong choice? To interfere?"

Erzsébet paused to consider the matter. It was strange how much one's conviction could change in a few hours. Whereas before she had felt so certain, now the very air seemed cold and accusing. For the first time, Erzsébet began to wonder whether she had done more harm than good with her actions. "Honestly, I'm not really sure," she admitted.

"Me neither."

By now, they had reached the entrance to the tent. Erzsébet turned to Alfred, intending to wish him goodnight, before the shadow of the dome suddenly reminded her of something. "Oh, I forgot to mention earlier. Your aura's changed again," she told him.

"It has?" Alfred asked.

"Yeah. It's gone back to blue, like it used to be," Erzsébet said, "It shows you must be feeling calmer now."

Alfred smiled wryly. "Well, maybe things _are_ changing. Maybe the worst has passed, and things are lookin' up for the circus now. Or maybe we're just learning to deal with the pain better. It's like Antonio said, y'know? Grief's a darn strange thing sometimes."

Erzsébet smiled back, trying to remember the phrase he had told her a few days ago. "So… what matters most is how well you walk through the fire?" she tried.

"Exactly."

Here, the conversation came to an end. With nothing more to say, Erzsébet left Alfred and scurried to her tent. It had not been an unpleasant night—troubling perhaps, but not unpleasant— but she was still looking forward to putting the existential considerations out of mind and snuggling up in bed. She doubted that she'd slept properly since Oktoberfest.

But as soon as Erzsébet stepped inside, she immediately recoiled. A sickening metallic tang blasted into her nostrils— overpowering enough to make her gag. Her heart pumped frantically as she fumbled for a torch. What the hell was going on here? What could have caused such a rancid scent in only a couple of hours? Part of her mind realised that perhaps she did not want to know the reason, but by then she had already seized the torch and flicked it on. Harsh light leapt across the room. Then Erzsébet saw what had happened. She bit back a gasp, staggered backwards, and did not even notice when she hit the tent wall behind. _No… please, please no…_

Two small bodies lay shoulder-to-shoulder across the floor. Their wide eyes stared without seeing, their mouths were open and endless, and multiple scarlet punctures scattered over their chests like a hideous disease. Worse still, they were absolutely caked in blood. It was thicker than anything Erzsébet had seen, but at the same time, not quite thick enough. She could still see the boy's sailor suit underneath. She could still see the girl's scraggly ponytail.

The walls closed around her, and Erzsébet felt her knees buckle. It didn't matter that she had seen two bodies before, it didn't matter that she had braced herself for further tragedy. Nothing could have prepared her for this. A roar sounded in her ears. Her stomach twisted and tightened with an awful sickness. Giving way to the despair, Erzsébet began to scream. She didn't stop when she heard footsteps thundering behind her. She didn't even stop when she heard anxious voices calling her name.

Peter and Charlotte had been stabbed to death in her tent. How could anything have prepared her for that?

* * *

 _To be continued soon..._

* * *

 _The cemetery in this chapter is indeed a real place, located in_ _Giesing on the outskirts of Munich. Many of those buried there are victims of the Concentration Camps or the Nazi regime, including several prominent members of the White Rose resistance society._

 _Again, many thanks to all my readers for giving me the motivation to keep posting this. I've particularly enjoyed hearing all your theories after last chapter! And hello to all my silent readers too. I hope you're also enjoying the story. :)_


	15. Chapter 15

The rest of the day passed in a nightmarish haze. So much officialdom had to be seen to—calling the police, giving details, informing Charlotte's parents— and it was handled in a chillingly professional manner. Erzsébet spent so much time talking and explaining that the back of her throat turned raw and the hours rolled into one.

She had no real sense of what the time was anymore. The clock in the police station's waiting room showed 2pm, but it could easily have been the middle of the night, or late morning. Erzsébet paced up and down the narrow room, her feet scuffing the faded blue carpet. She could not bring herself to wait passively. She could not bring herself to sit by while the _Kriminalpolizei_ did their work. More than anything now, she wanted to fight. She wanted to find the person who was responsible for these atrocious crimes and make them pay.

 _Crash!_

A sharp and abrupt ring echoed over the room. It sounded like something breaking. Erzsébet whirled around in surprise. She was supposed to be waiting for a preliminary forensic report, but the noise had come from Mathias Kølher's office. As she approached it, she discovered that the door had been left ajar. The remains of what had once been a Lego Viking warship lay in the middle of the floor with bricks scattered all around. Mathias himself stood by the shelves behind his desk and reached for his Lego model of a helicopter. His big clumsy hands were shaking and he had a wild, frantic expression on his face.

"Dammit, dammit, dammit!" Erzsébet heard him muttering. He hurled the model at the opposite wall and it shattered upon impact, falling in a broken pile beside the warship. "Dammit, dammit, God _DAMMIT!"_ In a frenzy, he grabbed a third construction— a Lego house. Erzsébet closed her eyes and winced at the crashing sound.

Suddenly, she realised that she did not want to watch this. Her stomach squirmed, oddly moved by this fragile, destructive scene. Not knowing what to do or say, she stepped back, and then her breath caught. Lukas Bondevik was standing beside her. How on earth had he managed to move so quietly?

"I—I…" Erzsébet's tongue wound as she struggled to find the right explanation or apology. But Lukas did not speak; he simply looked at her with those blank ocean-blue eyes, and pushed through into the office.

"What are you doing, Mathias?" she heard him ask.

Mathias turned towards him, a fourth Lego model in his hands and fire in his eyes. His voice sounded almost breathless. "It's my fault, Lu. All my fucking fault." With a roar, he threw the model, and smashed against the wall.

Lukas did not even flinch. "It's not your fault. Don't be stupid."

The last word made Mathias jerk to attention. _"Stupid._ That's exactly it. I didn't take this case seriously, I let the kids get into danger, I didn't listen to any of yer advice. And now look what's happened because I've been so worthless and so _stupid!"_ He emphasised the end of his sentence by spinning around and repeatedly kicking the desk. A pile of stacked papers slid off under the force.

"Stop it," Lukas said, very firmly and clearly. He walked over to the desk and stared Mathias straight in the eye. "You need to stop this right now."

And— incredibly— Mathias stopped. He seemed to quail under Lukas' gaze, took two shaky steps backwards and collapsed into the chair behind his desk. His hunched shoulders heaved up and down, racked with sobs. "Sorry," he choked, "Oh Lu, 'm so sorry."

"Shhhh, shhhh. You're not stupid. You're not worthless," Lukas kissed the back of Mathias' neck and ran his fingers through his untamed hair, "You're trying your best, like you always do. Think that must be why I like you so much."

With a heavy heart, Erzsébet pulled the office door shut. She was used to secretly observing couples but, for once in her life, she felt uncomfortable as a voyeur. There was no place for her in the midst of such a tender moment. When she turned again, she noticed a young man wearing knee-high white boots waiting at the end of the hall. She recognised him from the puffin perched upon his shoulder as Lukas' brother, but could not for the life of her remember his name. Thankfully, as Erzsébet walked up to him, he outstretched his hand.

"Here for the report? I'm Emil Bondevik, I think we met before, right?"

Erzsébet shook his hand. "Yeah. You're… Tino's assistant?"

"Not at the moment," Emil said, lowering his eyes, "I'm temporarily head of the _Spurensicherung._ You understand why, don't you?"

 _Oh._ In the mad chaotic blur that had taken place over the past few hours, she'd somehow completely forgotten. Peter was Tino's _son._ "O—of course I do."

Emil nodded. "Good. Come on."

He led her to a small office that Erzsébet had never been in before. There were no windows, the walls were white and gloomy, and a bowl of dubious-looking black sweets lay on an otherwise bare desk. Emil sat down and let the puffin hop onto his lap. He pushed the sweets towards Erzsébet. "Liquorice?"

She declined the offer, and Emil popped a sweet into his own mouth instead. He sucked thoughtfully as Erzsébet took a seat. "This hasn't been easy for any of us. Everyone in the police department knew Peter; he was like a member of the family," he said.

"Are Tino and his wife…?" Erzsébet trailed off, unsure of how to phrase her concern without sounding trite.

"They're not okay, but they will be. Give them time. I expect they'll go back to work soon if they want justice for their son." With a sigh, Emil retrieved a few pieces of paper from one of his desk drawers. "There hasn't been a full post-mortem yet. These are just a few observations about the bodies when they were brought in." He straightened the papers and scanned them over, "Firstly, both of them have at least ten different wounds— stab wounds— each. Which is weird."

Erzsébet bit her lip as she processed the information. "Mmmm… surely one would be enough.

"It would— easily. Another thing; the bodies only started to cool in the early hours of this morning, which usually happens about eight hours after death." Emil ruffled the top of his puffin's head and it cooed contentedly. "You told the _Kriminalpolizei_ that you were away from the circus yesterday evening?"

"That's right," said Erzsébet, preparing to recite the explanation she'd given about twenty times already, "I left the grounds of the Fireball Circus at about eight o'clock to go to the _Perlacher Forst_ cemetery. Two others we with me— Alfred F. Jones and Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. They've both been questioned already."

"I see." Emil flicked to another piece of paper, and Erzsébet could not tell whether his expression was melancholic or just plain _bored_. "Final observation; while there is a lot of blood around the crime scene, we're yet to find any outside your tent. I spoke to Officer Bondevik earlier and he told— er, he _agreed_ with me that we can deduce a few theories from these facts."

The fact that Emil had referred to his brother as 'Officer Bondevik' gave Erzsébet a bizarre, fleeting urge to laugh. She put a hand over her mouth to suppress the urge. "Go on."

"Okay. Number one, the murders took place sometime between the hours of eight o'clock and midnight, while you were out of the circus. Number two, they were committed in your tent, probably by someone who knew you were going out…" Emil paused to reach for another liquorice sweet. He offered the bowl to Erzsébet again. "Sure you don't want one?"

Out of politeness, Erzsébet took one of them. The salty flavour was a lot more potent than she'd expected and it was almost enough to make her choke. She resisted making a face, her eyes watering.

"Good, aren't they?" Emil said.

Erzsébet forced herself to smile. "Lovely. Thank you."

"Now, number three, probably the most important deduction," Emil continued, turning back to the notes, "Whoever did this was clearly very desperate to murder Peter and Charlotte. The clumsy and erratic stabbing means that they either wanted to cause them a lot of pain, or that they were scared for some reason. But either way, these murders aren't anywhere near as neat or as precise as the other two were."

Erzsébet took the thoughtful silence that followed as an opportunity to fake a cough, and spat the repulsive liquorice sweet into her hand. Stowing it away in her pocket surreptitiously, she asked, "Do you think they could have been committed by different people?"

"Maybe. Officer Bondevik seems to think so, b—but his word definitely doesn't make it true," Emil said, scowling slightly, "Although there definitely is one big difference this time…"

Erzsébet smiled grimly. This thought had been niggling at her all day. "No message."

"Yeah, and that means no convenient clue about the killer's motive. On top of everything else, we're practically working from nothing here." Emil rested the papers on the desk, looking gloomy. The puffin squawked and he took a sweet from the bowl, popping it into its beak.

Erzsébet ignored the loud crunching sound that followed and tried to think. It was baffling to imagine why anyone would want to kill two ten year olds so desperately, even if they had got on everyone's nerves. She remembered how Peter and Charlotte had behaved last time she'd seen them; bouncing and singing and talking excitably about the investigations. So full of life. Their constant appearances had been annoying, yes, but did really warrant such a brutal murder? It was impossible to know.

On her way out, Emil offered her another sweet. Erzsébet politely turned him down.

…

That night, Erzsébet could not sleep. How could she sleep after what had happened today? The backs of her eyes stung with tiredness, but every time she closed them all she could see were the children's bodies. Mutilated. Limp. Reduced to marionettes. It felt as if she was in a trace— a restless substitute for slumber where her dreams were warped and twisted. Finally, Erzsébet sat up and pulled herself out of bed. She needed some air. Throwing on her dressing-gown and a pair of slippers, she pushed out of the back entrance and into the night.

The air was bitterly cold outside with a harsh, buffeting breeze. The circus grounds were illuminated by an incomplete chunk of moon, and the wind carried the gloriously mundane scent of grass through the air. Erzsébet walked as fast as she could, ignoring her shivering and how the wind swept her hair out of place. As she was passing the Big Top— now colourless and shadowy in the darkness— she realised suddenly that she was not alone. Soft piano music tinkled through the silence, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Erzsébet swallowed. _Roderich._ Immediately, she turned around and began walking towards the entrance. She didn't stop to consider whether this was sensible. She didn't even stop to consider at all. All she knew was that her head was cluttered with anxiety, that the music was sweet and stirring, and that Roderich Edelstein was possibly the one person in the whole world who could take away her pain.

Inside, the tent was sheltered from the wind, allowing the notes to resonate more clearly. The tune sounded mournful, rich, eerily melancholic, and Erzsébet was sure that she recognised it even if she could not put a name to the piece. Low lighting spilled over the room to brighten the wreath of empty seats, the charred stage, and the magnificent Bluthner grand piano that stood just below. Roderich sat at his instrument. His eyes were closed, his fingers danced, body rose up and down as he tickled out those magical notes. Erzsébet found herself unconsciously holding her breath. He looked shining and golden in his element— like a princess, like a queen, like a… oh why was she so lost for words all of a sudden? Erzsébet leant against the tent wall, closed her eyes, and felt her body relaxing. She hadn't noticed that it was so rigid.

Far too soon, the music drew to a close. Erzsébet kept her eyes closed, hoping for more, until a gentle voice stirred her from her thoughts, "Erzsébet, you do not have to stand over there, you know. Come inside and listen to the music."

The words sent prickles over her skin. Unsurely, she opened her eyes and walked forwards, her footsteps echoing. "You knew I was there?" she asked.

"I can usually tell when I am being watched." Roderich sat upright, one hand on the piano bench and the other resting lightly on the keys. He was still fully dressed with his customary fluffy cloth tied loosely around his neck. "Were you perhaps unable to sleep?"

Erzsébet shuffled. She was currently standing about a metre away from the piano and wondered inwardly about coming closer. "A little bit…"

Roderich's measured eyes showed nothing but understanding. "So was I, as it happens. But I tend to find that the sacred music of great Austrian composers is able to soothe me."

"Wasn't that piece written by Beethoven?" Erzsébet asked, frowning.

"Correct. It is known as _Fur Elise,_ one of my absolute favourites from my country."

He wasn't making any sense, but Erzsébet didn't have the energy to argue about nationality. Instead, she decided to make another admission, "Well, I think it managed to soothe me too."

Roderich's features glowed with smug satisfaction. "It gladdens me so very much to hear that. Perhaps you would care to hear some more?"

Erzsébet nodded enthusiastically, all doubt and hesitation forgotten. Roderich shifted up on the bench to make room for her. "Come," he said, patting the space, "Sit beside me, there is plenty of room."

Erzsébet settled herself on the soft leather seat. The bench was evidently made for only one person and her thigh brushed against Roderich's as she perched there. She was surprised to discover that her heartbeat no longer raced at the touch. This time, it slowed down, steadied itself, relaxed in the quiet comfort of his presence.

Roderich flexed his fingers and rolled back his shoulder muscles like an athlete preparing to race. Erzsébet felt hopeful anticipation flutter inside. Then, he closed his eyes and began to play. His fingers were alive with passion, his feet worked steadily at the pedals, and his whole body swayed with the triumphant, ceremonial sound of the music. Yet Erzsébet couldn't help but feel slightly confused. She recognised this piece immediately, but it seemed an inexplicable choice. When he concluded the rousing music several minutes later, she was left with a mixture of awe and uncertainty.

"The national anthem of Germany?" she asked.

"I suppose that is _technically_ true, yes…" Roderich turned slowly from the piano. The sparkle in his eyes sent shivers down her spine. "Although not originally. This piece was composed in 1797 by the distinctly Austrian Joseph Hadyn, and was _originally_ used for quite a different purpose."

"Oh?"

Roderich's face remained impassive, although his lips twitched in a way that looked like he was fighting an urge to smile, "It was used as the national anthem of the Austro-Hungarian Empire."

Erzsébet gasped involuntarily, a quick flush spreading to her cheeks. _Austria-Hungary._ This could only mean that one thing; that Roderich's anthem was a gesture meant for her and her alone. Roderich met her astonished gaze, then returned his attentions to the shining white piano keys. The same melody burst from beneath his fingers, but this time it was accompanied by lyrics in his steady tenor voice:

" _Gott erhalte Franz, den Kaiser,_

 _Unsern guten Kaiser Franz._

 _Lange lebe Franz, der Kaiser,_

 _In des Glückes hellstem Glanz._

 _Ihm erblühen Lorbeerreiser,_

 _Wo er geht, zum Ehrenkranz._

 _Gott erhalte Franz, den Kaiser,_

 _Unsern guten Kaiser Franz."_

He came to a stop at the end of the verse, letting the final note echo away. "I assume you get the idea. I could of course sing more, in several different languages, but I do not wish to bore you. I merely hope that my performance was sufficient and to your tastes."

Erzsébet could have slammed her head against the keys in frustration. Always so formal, always so prim and proper even in their most intimate moments… "Roderich, your performance was _wonderful_. I don't think I could ever grow tired of your music. However…" She felt a little devious leap inside and realised that she could not let this go without putting in a word of patriotism. "Why you chose to play the anthem from a disastrous part of our shared history is honestly beyond me."

Oh, now _that_ certainly caught his attention. Roderich's mouth fell open and his hand flew his chest, decorum giving way to outrage. "E—excuse me? Whatever was wrong with Austria-Hungary?"

Erzsébet's heart leapt with wicked glee. "Well, let's see, us Hungarians saved your skin countless times against the Prussians and when you finally got your asses kicked you couldn't even give us our freedom without using it to keep your precious empire together."

"I think you'll find that it was a perfectly mutual decision!" Roderich said, his voice growing louder, _"Both_ governments were involved in the negotiations."

"Only because your Empress was sleeping with all the Hungarian ambassadors."

Roderich's hands slammed on the piano keys at random, producing a discordant ring. "Now _that_ in an insult I cannot take. Empress Sisi's love and respect for your county was a shining example to be followed by all!"

"It's a shame that she was the first one, isn't it?" Erzsébet said. She flashed him a challenging smirk. "All those centuries of oppression? 1848?"

"Those were years before! Besides, I don't know how you can talk about oppression while forgetting _your_ country's attempt at Magyarisation."

Erzsébet shook her head in disbelief. Against all expectations, this meaningless squabble made her feel exhilarated, and she found herself grinning widely. "Oh my ancestors are going to kill you for this."

To her surprise, Roderich was smiling too— that same stunning, gorgeous smile she'd seen in the _Gulghupf._ Erzsébet only needed a glimpse to realise how much she'd missed it. "Do you know, I find that rather difficult to believe," Roderich said, "Because I still appear to have made you smile, despite everything."

 _Oh._ Just like that, the memories returned, suppressing her simple, silly joy under their ébet lowered her eyes to the floor. She could feel Roderich watching her, she could sense his concern, but did not look up.

"Are you thinking about the murders?" he asked gently.

"Mmhmm." The pressure of grief was a boulder upon her chest, made heavier still by the brief respite.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Erzsébet didn't know whether she wanted to or not, but what did she have to lose? She took a deep breath. "I think the hardest thing is to look back and… and to know that their deaths were always looming close," she said, "F—Feliks and I made a pledge to stay best friends until we grew old and wrinkly. And I was so certain that Gilbert would have the energy to… to go on forever. And, oh God, the _children._ They could have been anything, done anything—" Erzsébet broke off abruptly. Something sharp was clawing at her throat and she realised with a mortifying jolt that she was close to tears. "I—I'm sorry. I know I'm being so pathetic."

"No. You are many things, Erzsébet, but pathetic is certainly not one of them." Roderich said. He looked so very serious about this insistence. "Who rode to my rescue when I was arrested? Who carried me home when I had no strength to walk?"

Erzsébet could not hide her proud, embarrassed smile. "Well, I like to think I'm your guardian angel, you know."

"Oh, you're more that that. You are my fierce Hungarian queen with a strength of an entire army." Roderich paused to move closer, reached out, and stroked her cheek with his thumb. Erzsébet shivered with pleasure. His touch was like electricity; his breath was warm and stimulating against her neck. "But not even the strongest warriors can be brave all the time."

The words touched Erzsébet so deeply that it was as if Roderich had spoken into her soul. And as another heave of emotion overcame her, she finally gave in. The tears fell thick and fast— swelling in her eyes and streaking over her cheeks— but she did not fight them. And when Roderich opened his arms hesitantly, she practically thew herself into the embrace.

They stayed like that for a while; chins resting on each other's shoulders, torsos bound together firmly. It was the first time Erzsébet had cried since the night of Feliks' death. Back then, it had felt like anger. Now, it felt like catharsis. The tears rose from a knot of pent-up anguish in her chest that every pang of feeling, every torturous experience over the past month had been building towards. And beneath it all, she became acutely aware of Roderich everywhere. Roderich's hands rubbing soothing circles into her back; Roderich's arms guiding her through the sobs; Roderich's fresh, sweet scent that was all she could smell whenever she drew in wavering breaths. Only when she felt her shoulder growing damp did Erzsébet realise that he was crying too. Roderich's tears were still and eerily silent, but no less significant, and they filled Erzsébet with an even stronger sense of reassurance. His rib bones were sticking out against hers, his steady heartbeat drumming against her chest like a metronome, and she knew unquestionably that this was where she belonged. With Roderich.

It could have been minutes or hours later when Erzsébet's sobs turned to snuffles, then gulps. Her crying had fully ceased before she and Roderich pulled apart. They didn't have to say anything to each other— only sharing through glances a silent acknowledgement of the intimacy that had occurred. Erzsébet knew that she must look a mess. Her face was wet, her nose blocked, and she felt dizzy and exhausted all over. Courteous as ever, Roderich passed her a clean handkerchief from his inside coat pocket and waited for her to dry her eyes. It came as no surprise to Erzsébet that he even cried prettily. When the light caught upon his tear-tracked cheeks, it seemed as if his whole face was sparkling.

"Does this mean that you trust me now?" he asked quietly.

Erzsébet twisted the damp handkerchief absent-mindedly, tracing her fingers over the lacy rim and embroidered 'R.E.' initials. "Hmmmm?"

"On the first night I met you, you told me that a Hungarian only cries in front of someone for whom they are willing let their guard down. Someone they trust," Roderich said. The swollen red circle around his eyes seemed only to emphasise their piercing violet hue. "So, is that true? Do you trust me, Erzsébet?"

The question was a striking as a bullet. Erzsébet's heart silently breathed his answer: _Yes._ Yes, she trusted Roderich Edelstein, trusted him unconditionally. Despite Vash, despite her reservations, despite everything. But the words refused to form, so she just folded his handkerchief to expose an unused side and dabbed Roderich's cheeks. By the time she had finished, he was gazing at her in a way that felt like worship.

"Thank you," he said, as if he understood the words that had been left unspoken.

Erzsébet could not help herself. Because Roderich was so polite, and so reserved, and so ridiculously adorable that she simply _had_ to show him how she felt. Leaning forwards, she kissed him unashamedly on the mouth. It was far from heavenly perfection; more like a scramble of damp cheeks and chapped lips and stickiness than anything else. But Erzsébet found that she didn't care. All the fear within her, all the horrific memories of the past month drifted away until there was only this. She cupped Roderich's smooth face with one hand, letting out a little moan as he moved his lips gently and touched her tongue. _This._ She had missed this. Roderich's kiss tasted of music, of romantic dances, of security. And of another flavour that Erzsébet could not get off her mind.

When the kiss broke, Erzsébet pressed her forehead against Roderich's, giggling slightly. "Coffee."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Your kissing flavour, like Feliciano said." She giggled again, unable to repress this warm, comfortable joy. "It's just like sweet, milky coffee."

Roderich nodded in consideration. "I see. Well, perhaps now would be a good opportunity to decipher yours." He pulled his forehead away, then stared pointedly from her eyes to her lips and back again. "Er… may I?"

Erzsébet did not respond but grabbed Roderich's fluffy cloth enthusiastically to pull him back into the kiss. It was much briefer this time, and over far too quickly, but the touch of Roderich's lips sent happy, tingling circles spinning inside.

Roderich broke off looking satisfied. "It is pepper, I think. Or something spicy anyhow, something like… like…"

"Paprika?" Erzsébet supplied.

"I suppose that would make sense." Smiling shyly, Roderich sought her left hand and gave it a squeeze. His fingers were a good deal longer and thinner than hers, but they entwined snugly as if made to fit together.

Erzsébet tried to take Roderich's other hand too, then realised that she was still clutching his handkerchief. "Oh! Um…" She proffered it tentatively. "Did you want this back?"

Roderich shook his head. "Keep it, please. I insist."

"Thanks." Erzsébet said, and tucked it into her dressing-gown pocket. She watched contentedly while Roderich dusted the piano keys, her eyelids threatening to droop. Simply being with him made her feel so relaxed and complete— buzzing with something that was more than just attraction. She thought back to the Roderich she'd first met— the snobby, superior young master Edelstein— and marvelled at how different he was from the one she knew now.

Erzsébet stroked his knuckles with her thumb. "Roderich?"

"Mmmmm?"

"Will you stay with me tonight?"

Roderich simply smiled back; that timid, breathtaking smile to which she was gradually growing accustomed. "Of course I will."

…

After a quick trip to Roderich's tent, Erzsébet snuggled underneath her blanket, entirely at ease. The lighting inside the big top was even dimmer than before. She watched dreamily as it flickered and cast shapes across the flame-coloured ceiling and wooden rafters high above. Outside, the wind howled and shrieked ominously, but it seemed a world away from her now. A world away from this warmth where she felt safe, and happier than she had in weeks.

Erzsébet was vaguely aware of Roderich shifting and sighing as he knelt nearby, attempting to rearrange his blankets and cushions into a more comfortable position. He had shed most layers of his clothing, and was dressed in a shirt and a pair of boxers. Erzsébet wished she could be alert enough to fully appreciate his bare legs and his face without glasses. It seemed like a waste upon drowsy eyes. Finally, Roderich threw back the first blanket and settled down.

"Are you warm enough, Erzsébet?" he asked after a moment, "Comfortable enough?"

"Mmhmm," she said. It was quite likely that she would start to ache after lying on the ground for a few hours, but right now it was the last thing onher mind.

"Are you sure? These sheets are exceedingly thin."

"I've got my dressing-gown on underneath."

"Ah, very well." Roderich's voice trailed ébet closed her eyes and prepared to sleep until, once again, she heard Roderich speaking. "Are you absolutely positive that you are not cold?"

His excessive concern should have been irritating, but it made Erzsébet's heart flutter. _So sweet, so silly, so, so much of a gentleman._ "I'm fine, honestly. Why, are _you_ cold?"

Roderich's answer was a little too hesitant. "I… no, I'm— I'm quite warm I assure you."

Erzsébet rolled her eyes. He could be just as stubborn as she was when they came down to it. Summoning as much energy as possible, she shifted closer, rolled onto one side, and wrapped her arm around Roderich's torso. Her bent knees slotted against his, his back pressed snugly against her chest.

"There," Erzsébet breathed into the nape of his neck, "Is that better now?"

She felt his body ease against hers. "Much better, thank you."

Erzsébet smiled softly and let her eyelids flutter shut. Every time she had visualised holding Roderich like this it had always seemed frightening, astonishing, not calm and pleasant as it was in reality.

"Although…" Roderich added, almost as an afterthought, "Shouldn't _I_ be the one holding _you?"_

"No, I don't think so." She gave him a squeeze. "Things are good as they, are, don't you think?"

"Isn't there _anything_ I can do for you?"

Erzsébet hummed thoughtfully. It was honestly difficult to think of anything she wanted on top of this. Here, she had warmth, peace, a temporary respite from every thought of death and murder. And most importantly of all, she had Roderich. Roderich's slight body, and scented hair— every inch of him all to herself. But perhaps she could think of something… "Well, if you _really_ insist, you could always sing for me. Please."

" _Sing?_ What an… abstract request!" Roderich shuffled against her body. "What would you even want for me to sing?"

But Erzsébet already had an answer for that. "That song you sang earlier… that anthem you know in several languages…" Now that her eyes were closed, each word felt like a deeper struggle than the last. "Sing it in Hungarian."

For a few seconds, there was silence. Then, Roderich's gentle voice flowed through her semi-consciousness, carrying the swell of triumphant, lilting lyrics:

" _Tartsa Isten, óvja Isten,_

 _Királyunk s a közhazát._

 _Erőt lelve a szent hitben,_

 _Ossza bölcs parancsszavát…"_

His pronunciation was all over the place, but it didn't matter. Listening to this was simply imperfect perfection. Erzsébet felt his neck vibrating against her forehead, his chest rise and fall with every breath, and her heart swelled with pride. It meant so much to her to hear Hungarian on Roderich's lips, even Hungarian that was broken and erroneous. Erzsébet sighed contentedly. She could not imagine a nicer way of being lulled to sleep than this.

" _Hadd védnünk ős koronáját,_

 _Bárhonnét fenyítse vész._

 _Magyar honnal Habsburg trónját,_

 _Egyesíté égi kéz…"_

As the singing continued, growing increasingly distant, Erzsébet's drifting mind began to reflect. Roderich had made her laugh countless times today, on a day where happiness should have been the last thing on her mind. And every incident when she'd seen him smiling— truly smiling— had been in front of her alone. Erzsébet knew by now that nothing hurt as much as the indescribable pain of losing someone close. Yet she was also beginning to understand that it was in these moments of despair and agony beyond belief that love showed itself most strongly. Then, just before she fell asleep, she realised something. It was perhaps a little melodramatic, perhaps a little sentimental, but also bright, comforting, and true.

If she was with Roderich, and he was with her, both of them would be able to keep smiling.

* * *

 _To be continued next week..._

* * *

watch?v=_mVW8tgGY_w

watch?v=06643umEJZg

Gott erhalte Franz den Kaiser _was first written in 1792 by Joseph Haydn and Lorenz Leopold Haschka. After the Austro-Hungarian Compromise of 1848, it became the national anthem of the whole Empire, and a Hungarian version of the lyrics were written._

 _A translation of the German Lyrics (first verse):_

 _God keep Francis the emperor,_  
 _Our good Emperor Francis!_  
 _Long live Francis the emperor,_  
 _In the brightest splendour of happiness!_  
 _May sprigs of laurel bloom for him_  
 _As a garland of honour, wherever he goes._  
 _God keep Francis the emperor,_  
 _Our good Emperor Francis!_

 _A translation of the Hungarian Lyrics:_

 _God hold and protect our King and common land!  
_ _Gaining strength from the holy faith may he pass his wise orders!  
Let us protect his crown from wherever the danger comes,  
Hungarian land with the Habsburg crown has been united by a godly hand._

 _These days, many Hungarians do tend to look back on the Empire with a similar displeasure as_ _Erzsébet displayed in this chapter. :P_

* * *

 _Readers, you have all been especially wonderful after last chapter, and I wish I could give you all hugs for the support you have shown me. I only hope that my thanks and another chapter can suffice instead._


	16. Chapter 16

To Erzsébet's relief, nobody said anything when she and Roderich arrived late and dishevelled to lunch the next day, having slept through the entire morning. There were a few raised eyebrows, a wink from Antonio, and Feliciano humming _That's Amore_ , but thankfully nothing else. Erzsébet ate in silence, trying to avoid everyone's eye. She was nursing a pounding headache, aching shoulders, and a crick in her neck, but she was still certain that it had been the best night's sleep in her life.

After lunch, Erzsébet left the Ringmasters' tent with more of a spring in her step than usual. She did not remember the last time she had felt so light or so hopeful, and it was all she could do to keep the grin off her face. But as she stepped outside, her happiness faded an instant. Luca was waiting for her by the entrance, his arms folded and his expression grim.

"Oh! Hello?"

"Erzsébet." Luca flicked his fringe and sighed heavily. "Please don't tell me you were with Roderich last night."

Erzsébet's skin burned with shame. "I—I don't see why that's any of your business."

"I'm not saying that it is. But all the same…" Luca shook his head slowly. "Do you really think it's sensible? You know what happened when he was with Vash."

Hot indignation engulfed her, even as Erzsébet's heart sank to the floor. "That was a completely different situation!" she hissed.

"That doesn't mean he won't hurt you."

"No. You're wrong," Erzsébet said firmly, "Roderich's a gentleman, and gentlemen learn from their mistakes." But even as she said the words, she wasn't completely sure.

Luca just shrugged and flicked his fringe. "Well, it's up to you of course. But if I were in your position… it isn't a risk I would take."

…

Over the following week, Luca's words remained at the forefront her mind. Erzsébet wanted to believe that he was overreacting, but her doubts lingered. She could hear Vash's warning so clearly, and she could still see the pained tears sparkling in his eyes. So whenever she and Roderich met, Erzsébet kept their interactions determinedly platonic. They talked together often, as easily as friends, and Erzsébet ignored her pounding heart, the flutters in her chest, the unspoken electricity between them. She told herself that it was better this way, easier. Especially when she suspected most strongly that she might be lying.

Erzsébet wanted to help the _Kriminalpolizei_ however she could, but they rarely visited the Circus, and always seemed occupied when they did. It was immensely frustrating to stand idly by while the investigations continued. Her mind continued to buzz with mysteries— Lars and Belle at Oktoberfest, Lovino's convenient disappearances, Sebastiano's suspicious conversation. _Lars, Lovino, Sebastiano, Belle._ She didn't know where to search next, or even whether she should anymore. The days endured slowly, aimlessly as her restlessness increased. Erzsébet wished she could do something. If only she had a hint— one tiny push to send her in the right direction.

In the end, it was Feliciano's idea to turn back to supernatural methods. Erzsébet had not touched her prophesying equipment since the incident with the crystal ball; terrified that she would see death omens wherever she turned. But tasseography was a very different art to orb reading, and the hot herbal tea succeeded in calming her nerves. She and Feliciano drank until only the dregs remained, swirled the cups three times, and drained the liquid. Erzsébet turned her teacup clockwise, mentally noting symbols from the tea leaves left behind. Sitting opposite, Feliciano did the same. His expression was deeply perplexed.

"I don't get it," he said after a moment, "All this just looks like soggy mushiness to me!"

"You have to look more closely, dear," Erzsébet told him. She took a breath of familiar, candle-scented air, immersing herself in the atmosphere. "Search for the story beyond the mundane."

"Um… well there's a sort of spiky thing here," Feliciano said, tilting his head, "It could be a claw maybe?"

"The claw," Erzsébet repeated, "A hidden enemy."

Feliciano gulped. He twisted the cup with slightly shaking fingers. "And there's a weird thing with three prongs… maybe a fork? No, no, wait! It's a key!"

Erzsébet nodded. "The key… new opportunities."

"Are you sure it doesn't just mean that we're going to _find_ a key?" Feliciano said, his brow furrowing, "Ve~ I thought tea leaves were going to be simpler than this…"

"Divination is a subtle skill, Feli."

Feliciano sighed and peered into his cup again. "I think that might be an aeroplane towards the edge…"

"A sudden, short journey, not without risk," Erzsébet said. She lowered her voice. "It wouldn't happen to be broken, would it?"

Feliciano quailed under her tone. "I don't _think_ so. Why? What would it mean if it was?"

"A terrible accident."

Feliciano frowned, and placed his teacup on the saucer. "Why does everything have to be so nasty when you read the future? Why can't it just be all happy and nice?"

"Oh sweetie," Erzsébet reached across the oak table to squeeze his hand. "We're not really in a happy place at the moment, are we?"

Smiling sadly, Feliciano's eyes trailed to Erzsébet's teacup. "Tell me what yours says now."

Erzsébet nervously consulted the tea leaves. Her own cup was rife with symbols, and she wasn't sure she wanted to acknowledge all of them. Especially not the ones that were making her mind spin and her blood turn hot… "Well, there's the dagger, which symbolises danger ahead—" she started.

"Hey!" Feliciano cried indignantly, "Now you're just making it horrible on purpose!"

Erzsébet ignored him. "There's— there's the full moon…" She swallowed heavily. _Which means a love affair._ "Which means… declining fortune. There's a horse's head," _Romance._ "Which symbolises… travel, and there's the flower," _A wish coming true._ "For, er, financial difficulties."

Feliciano looked dubious. "Why would a _flower_ mean financial difficulties?"

Once again, Erzsébet chose to ignore him. She turned the cup once more, and stared blankly as a final, indistinct shape came into view. "There's one other symbol too, just here. I can't quite make it out…"

"Oooh, can I see?"

Unable to decipher it any further, Erzsébet proffered her cup. Feliciano took it eagerly and squinted into its depths. "Wow, that _is_ really weird! It's like a big box or a wonky boat or something."

"My best guess would be a ship, meaning a successful journey," Erzsébet said, "But I know that's not quite right."

"Yeah, it only looks a teeny little bit like a boat really. Hmmm…" Feliciano rotated the cup to the opposite side, and gasped. "Ooh, Ooh! I've got it! It's a caravan!"

Erzsébet struggled to resist a spluttering laugh. _A caravan?_ "I'm afraid there isn't an interpretation for caravan tea leaves, Feli."

"But that's what it is! And there's a meaning for an aeroplane, so it's not fair if caravans don't have one too."

Erzsébet shook her head resignedly, took the cup back, and scooped out the useless leaves with a teaspoon. She'd had enough confusing messages from her ancestors for one day. "Come on, let's get rid of these. I don't think the aura is right for tasseography at the moment."

"Wait, don't give up, Erzsébet!" Feliciano tugged at her sleeve. "What if we're supposed to _combine_ our teacups for the message? What if there _is_ danger ahead because we're going to get a key and learn about a hidden enemy and it's all connected to this caravan?"

He gazed at Erzsébet imploringly, the soft candlelight bringing out an eager amber glow in his eyes. Erzsébet sighed. _Poor, naïve Feliciano._ "It's a nice idea, but I don't see how it would work. The only caravan in the circus is the van Rjins', and they don't even have a key."

But as soon as she said the words, Feliciano clapped a hand over his mouth. "No. No it isn't, Erzsébet."

"Isn't what?"

"The van Rjins' caravan isn't the only one on the circus," Feliciano said. His voice quivered with a half-hopeful, half-fearful strain. "Don't you remember that circus meeting from a month ago? Don't you remember what Ludwig said?"

For a moment, Erzsébet was completely confused. Then the recollection struck her. She thought back to that moment of uneasy bewilderment, that moment of incredulity and squirming dread at the idea of someone raiding a collection of documents. She breathed out in understanding. _"Oh._ You mean the storage caravan, don't you?"

"Exactly," Feliciano said, "One month ago, someone broke in. Four people have died sine then."

"And you think they could be connected?"

Feliciano stood up. There was a flash of something unfamiliar in his eye— a sort of reckless, determined twinkle. "Let's go and find out!"

Leaving the cooling teapot behind, Erzsébet followed him out of the tent. Not for the first time, she wondered whether she had seriously underestimated Feliciano's intelligence.

…

The storage caravan was an old-fashioned model, painted beige with grime and flecks of mud creeping up the sides. It stood on its own, a little way off from the Vargas' tepee. Feliciano pulled out the key that he'd taken from Ludwig's tent and inserted it into a stiff, corroded lock. To Erzsébet's surprise, the door opened with a heavy groan. There was only one room inside— a dark, cramped space with no furnishings and a ceiling that leaked green liquid. Strewn all around the floor were piles and piles of square wooden boxes, dated in black marker pen on the front. Some even went as far back to the 1960s, when the Fireball Circus was established by Ludwig and Gilbert's grandfather. Each one contained a stack of loose papers, clippings and leaflets, the oldest among them yellowed with age. Feliciano lost no time grabbing one of them and gesturing for Erzsébet to do the same.

And thus, the search began.

Half an hour later,Erzsébet was sure that she never wanted to see another sheet of paper again. She had read documents detailing circus finances and boring administration. She had read reports of past acrobats, clowns, and tightrope walkers. She had even read five separate complaints about Gilbert drenching audience members with water during his clown act a few years ago. But nowhere in the many tedious pages had Erzsébet found anything remotely suspicious. Over time, her eyes began to glaze, her thighs cramped from sitting, and she found herself reading the same sentences again and again. She was not entirely sure why they were bothering to search at all. Whoever broke in had clearly found what they wanted, whatever her tea leaves said.

Presently, Feliciano gave a loud, plaintive whine. Erzsébet's mind lurched into focus. "What is it? Have you found…?"

"Oh, no. Nothing like that. It's just… a really, really sad story." Feliciano blinked his eyes rapidly and pushed the paper he had been holding in her direction.

Erzsébet took the offered item and gave it a quick scan over. It was the top half of newspaper cutting from _Munchner Merkur_. The headline stood out with bold, black letting and caught her attention immediately:

 _ **Circus Magician Killed in Tragic Fire**_

 _Last night, the internationally renowned Fireball Circus came into the spotlight with scenes of horror and devastation worthy of its name. The troupe, based in Bavaria, were in the middle of their evening performance when flames were first detected by an acrobat waiting backstage. Audience members were quickly evacuated, yet it was soon discovered that another performer, Arthur Kirkland, was still trapped inside the tent. Firefighters who arrived on the scene managed to pull Mr Kirkland (29) from the blazes, yet he was reported to have later perished in hospital from numerous severe burns._

 _Mr Kirkland— better known by his stage name,_ The Invincible Gentleman _— had worked in the Circus as an amateur magician for over ten years. He is remembered by those who knew him as both a 'talented performer,' and a 'likeable young man, who cared very deeply for the people he loved.' It is clear that he will be solely missed by colleagues, family, and fans alike, and that the entire community has been shaken by this tragedy._

 _It still remains to be seen how the fire was initially caused. Early investigations suggest that it may have been started by an unattended grill backstage, and quickly spread out of control. One witness— a fellow performer who does not wish to be named— claims to have seen the grill left abandoned and has identified…_

Here, the story came to an abrupt stop. The remainder of the paper must have ripped off at some point, because the edges were torn and the report left incomplete. Erzsébet checked the area above the headline for a date. The article had been written over eight years ago.

She passed it back to Feliciano, a dull kind of sadness ringing in her chest. "Do you think anyone remembers it? Anyone currently working in the circus, I mean."

"I don't think so. I'm not sure anyone's been working here since then." Feliciano carefully wiped the corners of his eyes. "And if they _did_ remember, they should have told someone about it." He added in a quiet, almost indignant voice.

Erzsébet leant with her back against one of the boxes, hugging her knees to her body. Thoughts of the traumatic past began mingling with the traumatic present to create a churning sense of confusion and tension. _Lars, Lovino, Sebastiano, Belle._ More to distract herself than anything else, she turned over a new sheet of finances and focused on it resolutely. She was surprised to discover that it was not written in Ludwig's neat, steady handwriting, but an untidy scrawl she had not seen before. Many of the words were completely illegible.

"Hey, is Ludwig the only one who keeps track of our budgeting?" Erzsébet asked, "Nobody else helps him out, do they?"

Feliciano shook his head. "Nope! He's _always_ delaying our snuggle time because he's too busy copying stupid finances. Why?"

Erzsébet passed him the document. There were too many parts that she failed to understand, but Feliciano might have better luck with it. "Because this isn't Ludwig's handwriting. Do you know what it says?"

Feliciano tilted his head in thought. "Hmmm! That doesn't look like German to me. Maybe it's Danish or Swedish or something? I can't tell…"

"Can you read any of it?" Erzsébet asked.

"Probably not. It definitely isn't any of the languages that I know." He brought the paper close to his face. "Oooh, but there is one word that keeps repeating! Henn… heenp…? Hen-up?" Feliciano looked up, shrugging. "Ehhh, I'm not sure. But it doesn't matter anyway, this is only boring finances."

"You could be right," Erzsébet said, "But don't you think it's suspicious that the only spreadsheet not written by Ludwig is in a strange language? Especially since I found it in the most recent box."

Feliciano's eyes widened in understanding. "So do you think that maybe the person who broke in didn't take something out after all? Do you think that maybe they were actually taking this paper inside?"

"This is probably the best hiding place in the whole circus. What if the paper is some sort of secret code that its owner couldn't risk anyone else getting their hands on?"

"A secret code?" Feliciano brightened immediately. "I've always wanted a secret code! Can I take it back and decipher it? Can I, can I?"

"Whatever you want, Feli."

Erzsébet flicked through the rest of the papers in her pile, but couldn't find any other writing resembling that distinctive scrawl. She tipped the files back into the box, replaced the lid, and folded her arms. Ten minutes ago, she would have given almost anything to find something unusual— some sort of clue. Now that they had one, it seemed to have left even more questions open than before. Erzsébet gazed at the ceiling, watching a pool of watery grime lurking in the left corner. Droplets in the centre swelled bulbously, before dripping off and landing with a _plink_ on the wooden box below. The noise created a fretful rhythm in Erzsébet's head. _Lars, Lovino, Sebastiano, Belle._

"Erzsébet?" Feliciano said hesitantly.

"Mmmm?"

"Why do you think someone would want to kill Peter and Charlotte?"

The innocence of the question was both sad and faintly amusing. "I wish I knew, dear," Erzsébet said, "But then, there are a lot of things I wish I knew."

Feliciano leant against one of the boxes. "What _I_ want to know is what made murderer the way they are. People aren't born nasty, but now this one is mean and horrible and psychopathic. "

Erzsébet chewed her thumbnail, deliberating. "I'm not sure, Feli. Mean and horrible, yes. Psychopathic, no. Feliks and Gilbert's death weren't random— they were clever and calculated and motivated. But Peter and Charlotte's… they were the complete opposite."

"So, you think they _were_ killed by different people?"

"Or for different reasons."

Feliciano's brow furrowed. "But that doesn't make any sense, Erzsébet! If the murderer had a motive, it would be really dangerous to kill anyone for a different reason. And I know Peter and Charlotte liked playing detective, but it was only a game, wasn't it?"

Suddenly, the room turned cold. A dark shudder of realisation passed through Erzsébet's body. _But what if it wasn't. Oh God, what if it wasn't._ She stared back at Feliciano, astonished and terrified. "Oh Feli. I think I might have just—"

" _Nnggg…_ FUCK!"

Both Erzsébet and Feliciano jumped instantly. The shout that split through the air had come from outside, and was thick with frenzied emotion. Yet the origin of the voice was unmistakably clear…

"Oh— _ohhh! Ahhhh…_ SHIT, FUCKING SHIT, YOU— Y—YOU BASTARD!"

Erzsébet glanced at Feliciano. His face had turned deathly pale. His jaw dropped open, and one single, whispered word emerged: _"Lovino."_

That did it. Erzsébet jumped to her feet and bolted out of the caravan. The noise grew louder, sharper— apparently coming from the Vargas' tepee. Erzsébet's heart was in her mouth, and her mind gripped with panic. She did not want to think about what Lovino's yelling might mean, nor what would possibly happen if it stopped.

"YOU A—ASSHOLE! YOU DAMN M—MAGNIFICENT JERKBASTARD! I… I… _ooohhhhhhh!"_

The tepee flap was zipped right up to the bottom. Erzsébet yanked it up in one smooth motion and ran inside. Then immediately, she realised her misunderstanding.

It was like stumbling across still from a film. Lovino lay gasping and naked on his back— his head titled backwards and his tanned legs parted. His fists were clenched, his skin was shining with sweat, his face was bright red and contorted with pleasure. And lying above him, thrusting into him with unrestrained passion was… was…

" _Antonio?"_

The exclamation slipped out before Erzsébet could do anything to prevent it. She threw both hands over her mouth, horrified by her outburst, but it was already too late. Lovino snapped upright at the noise. He met her gaze and his body turned rigid like a trapped animal. His hazel eyes were bright with emotion; confusion, outrage, and most prominently of all, fear. Antonio swivelled around— his rumpled hair dripping— and his jaw dropped. "Ay! Oh, _mierda."_

Mobility struck Lovino belatedly. He pushed himself up, thrashing, shaking and struggling in a hysterical attempt to scoot away from Antonio. A box of condoms knocked over as he went, scattering its contents over the floor. "Shit! Fuck! Shit! Oh my God, oh my _fucking_ God!" He buried his enflamed face into the crook of his arm. "Y—you bastard! You— you pervert! Get away from me, get—!"

"Lovino…" Antonio heaved himself towards Lovino, his hand outstretched.

"Don't touch me! I don't want you! I was just sitting here in my damn tent and you— you came along and… and forced yourself on me! You sick asshole, you—!"

Erzsébet could only watch on powerlessly as Antonio's expression transformed into shocked anguish. "Lovino! How could you…? You know that isn't true, how _could_ you say…?"

"Fuck! There's no way I wanted this! No way in hell that I could ever… ever…" Lovino sucked in a harsh breath between his teeth, then completely broke down. "Oh my _God!"_

The sight of him quivering so vulnerably seemed to calm Antonio. He reached over, grabbed a crumpled duvet, and used it to cover Lovino's exposed bottom half. When he spoke, his soothing voice held nothing but tenderness, "Lovi, please calm down. Please? There's no need for secrecy anymore." He stared from Lovino, to Erzsébet, to the entrance of the teepee as it opened again. Feliciano burst inside, and gasped dramatically at the scene. Lovino's blush deepened. He stopped hastily trying to hide a bottle of lube behind his pillow and settled for burying his head into Antonio's shoulder.

"This is all my fault, all my _damn_ fault…"

" _Shhhh,"_ murmured Antonio, gently tucking a piece of hair behind Lovino's ear, "It's alright now. You don't need to be angry. You don't need to be ashamed. They know."

* * *

 _To be continued next week..._

* * *

 _Both the methods and symbolism of tasseograpy (more colloquially known as reading tea leaves) in this chapter are in use to the best of my_ _knowledge. The information is from a website specifically dedicated to the practice._

 _Once again, many thanks to everyone who takes time to read my work, especially those who take a little extra time letting me know what they think of it. I remain a happy and grateful writer._


	17. Chapter 17

Lovino was still refusing to meet anyone's eye. He sat with his back pressed stiffly against the wall of the small teepee, his face twisted like a fruit being squeezed into a pulp. Between his creased shirt, gritted teeth and tomato-patterned boxer shorts, he looked more forlorn and helpless than Erzsébet had ever seen him before. She tried to think of something to say, but her brain didn't seem to be working properly. She was still stupefied after her discovery, and not to mention quite excited too. To think that all that passionate Mediterranean romance had been going on behind her back! _Gorgeous._

Antonio had left for a shower five minutes ago, leaving the rest of them trapped in what seemed like a never-ending silence. It quickly became clear that nobody was prepared to confront the matter at hand. Lovino gazed at the floor as if fascinated by it. Feliciano hugged his knees to his chest and nervously hummed out of tune. Erzsébet watched them both in turn, desperately willing one of the brothers to speak. Eventually, at the point where she was sure her voice had dried up from lack of use, it was Lovino himself who did so:

"What you just saw there…" He drew in a determined breath, keeping his eyes fixed upon the ground. "It _didn't_ fucking happen, okay?" Erzsébet waited for the usual apology for his language. It didn't come.

Feliciano raised his head, confused. "But that _did_ happen! Because we both saw it happen, and it's nothing to be ashamed of anyway, and… Lovino? Why are you glaring at me like that?"

"Shut up, Feli," Lovino growled, shaking and clenching his hands into fists, "For once in your life, just shut the hell up!"

There was another silence, even more guarded than the last. While Feliciano looked distraught, Erzsébet's mind began to click into focus. Questions and theories whirred together into a semblance of realisation, and she hastened to speak, "Were there other times when this… _didn't_ happen?"

Lovino looked upwards and scowled. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Well, perhaps it… _didn't_ happen when you were late for that circus meeting," she said, "And perhaps it… _didn't_ happen when you were missing during the performance. Or during Oktoberfest?"

Lovino lowered his eyes to his boxers, but there was a slight, if distorted, smile playing upon his lips. "… Perhaps."

"Lovi, why do you keep denying it?" Feliciano whined, "We know you had sex with Antonio just now, and if you had sex with him before at those times then it means you didn't murder anyone! And sex is really, really nice so I don't know why you'd want to deny it anyway, and—"

"Feliciano," Erzsébet said, "I think it's best just to drop it for now."

Feliciano started to nod uncertainly, then switched and shook his head. "But I _can't_ drop it! I'm really worried about you Lovi! I mean, I know that you didn't murder anyone now, and I'm happy about that, but I'm worried that you and Antonio might be…" He shuddered, and finished in a tiny whisper, "… Might be in an abusive relationship!"

Lovino jerked bolt upright. Every inch of his feigned aloofness had vanished in an instant, leaving behind only wide-eyed, crimson-cheeked fear. "What the—? An abusive…? W—What the hell are you talking about?"

"Waah, please don't get upset!" Feliciano cried, "I just mean… well, I didn't think you were into men for a start…"

Lovino laughed humourlessly, and switched his voice to a mocking impersonation of Feliciano's, "Oooh, but Grandpa says there's nothing wrong with playing for both sides! Ve~ ve~ ve~!"

"I don't sound like that!"

"Yes you fucking well do!"

"Ve~ anyway, even if you are bisexual, I thought you hated Antonio! You've always hated Antonio!"

"What? When did I say that?" Lovino said. Beneath his scowl, Erzsébet could see the hidden agitation plainly.

"All the time! You're always saying about how much you hate him— how much you hate the way he talks, how stupid he is— you're always calling him a jerk or a bastard or an asshole." Feliciano looked imploringly at his brother. "Lovino, how can you be in a relationship with someone when you hate everything about them? It isn't right! It isn't _fair!"_

Lovino did not respond immediately. He closed his eyes and muttered something inaudible under his breath, something that could have been either a string of curses or a prayer. Outside, it had begun to rain. Erzsébet listened in silence to the droplets pounding upon the tepee. The sound resonated like gunfire.

Finally, Lovino spoke, "Damnit Feli! Just… dammit. Maybe… maybe I don't…" His voice quavered and failed halfway through the sentence. Taking a deep breath, he tried again, "Look, I don't hate _everything_ about him, okay?"

"But I don't understand," Feliciano said, "What do you mean that you don't hate _everything?_ If you find him so annoying, what _don't_ you hate about Antonio?"

Lovino opened his eyes. Although he was still shaking, his gaze seemed harder and more resolute than before. "I—I… don't hate his hair. I don't hate how it's always so messy, like he's just been dragged through a hedge backwards, but—but ends up looking fucking perfect anyway. I don't hate his eyes. His brilliant, stunning green eyes that pierce your soul when he looks at you. And I… d—don't hate how he talks about these stupid, pointless little things like the hold the whole world's meaning." The rain had intensified outside, with a roar of bitter wind, but Lovino continued talking, "I… I don't hate how everything else in existence stops when he smiles at me. I don't hate his amazing ass, and I don't hate how his lips taste like home, and I don't hate how incredible it feels when he's with me, and… and… Oh God! Oh my God!" His voice cracked abruptly. With an anguished gasp, he buried his face in his hands. "I love him, Feli. I love him so much I could die!"

"Oh," said Feliciano. It was an eloquent response.

The raindrops continued drumming incessantly, but nobody dared to speak. Erzsébet bit her lip and watched Lovino's body quivering out of the corner of her eye. She felt as if her chest might burst open any moment. Because this was Lovino— Lovino who always seemed suspicious, aloof, angry at the whole world. Who could have known that he thought so much and felt so deeply under the surface?

"Have you told him yet?" she asked.

Lovino looked up and wiped his nose on the back of his hand. "Told him? _Told_ Antonio. Oh my God, how can I ever _tell_ him? Just because he's… just because we're… it doesn't mean…" He let out a growl, and tugged his hand through his hair. "We're not _together_ like that, dammit! And Antonio, he's… not like me. He's handsome, friendly, popular, so damn _good_ with everyone, and he could have anyone he wanted— anyone at all! So why…? Why the hell would he want…?"

He lapsed into silence once again, and Erzsébet felt a pang of guilt. For months, she had been so sure that Antonio and Belle would make a perfect couple. That Antonio deserved to find happiness in the arms of someone as cheerful and outgoing as he was. Never once had she fantasised, consulted her crystal ball, or even thought about any romantic feelings that _Lovino_ might have. He had been cast aside from her little matchmaking game entirely. He had been judged, albeit subconsciously, as unworthy of love.

"Lovino! Oh, Lovino!" Feliciano gasped, crawling forwards. Lovino paled and began to back away, but his brother got there first. The hug that he assaulted him with was fierce enough to knock him over. "Waah, Lovi! I had no idea you felt like this! Why didn't you tell me you were feeling like this?"

"What the—?" Lovino wriggled frantically. "Dammit, don't touch me, don't—!"

But Feliciano only squeezed tighter. "You shouldn't say such terrible things about yourself. Of course Antonio wants you!

"Let go! You're crushing my ribs, let the fuck go!"

"You're really caring and sweet deep down because you always cook pasta for me when I want it, and even if Antonio doesn't want pasta, he obviously likes you because he likes having sex with you, and—"

"I can't even _breathe!"_

"And anyway, it's fine if you think he's incredible and you can't believe he likes you, because that's how love _works._ But you don't need to worry about him not liking you really, because he's the one who see you as you truly are! He's the one who somehow knows how to make you happy even when nothing else can!"

"Feli, you melodramatic bastard, _get off!"_

As Erzsébet watched the bizarre demonstration of brotherly affection, her thoughts drew away to a different place. She thought back to her shining evening with Roderich, recalling the soothing music, the comforting touches, and the timid, even smile that was growing steadily familiar. _Her smile._ Erzsébet grinned in spite of herself. _The one who knows how to make you happy even when nobody else can._ Yes it was melodramatic, but wasn't it the truth?

She was shaken out of her contemplation by the sound of the tepee unzipping again. Antonio appeared in the entrance, clad in tomato-patterned boxers, with a towel draped over his shoulder. The wind and rain buffeted the tent flap behind him. "Hi everyone!" he said.

"Hi Antonio!" said Feliciano, "Oh, you didn't walk through the rain in your underwear, did you? You shouldn't do that. You'll catch pneumonia and die, and think how sad Lovi would be then."

"Shut up, Feli," Lovino muttered.

Antonio just laughed. "Don't worry, Feliciano, I'm not planning to die any time soon." He came to sit inside, grinning at the sight of the embracing brothers. "Is everyone hugging Lovino now? Count me in!"

Lovino finally managed to extract himself from Feliciano's arms. "No! Nobody is hugging Lovino, especially not the dipshits who don't ask first."

"Nobody?" Antonio asked softly. Erzsébet had to hold back a squeal at the momentary, tentative look of craving that passed over Lovino's face. How on _Earth_ had she failed to notice all this before?

Feliciano suddenly giggled at Antonio. "Hey, you're wearing the same boxer shorts as Lovino! They've both got tomatoes on them."

"That's right! Although my tomatoes are quite a bit bigger than his." Antonio said, winking at Lovino. Lovino scowled instantly at looked at the floor.

"Ve~ maybe I should get some boxers like Ludwig's. And then Erzsébet can buy bras and pants like Roderich's boxers and all the couples can have matching underwear!"

"Feliciano!" hissed Erzsébet.

Thankfully, his comment went mostly ignored as Antonio shifted over to where Lovino was sitting. The briefest hint of a smile flickered on Lovino's lips as he approached, but he quickly replaced it with his usual glare. Antonio placed a careful hand upon his bare shoulder. "Lovi?"

Lovino flinched, looked for a moment as if he might shake it off, and then seemed to think better of it. "What do you want?" he asked with a sigh.

"When I was in the shower, I started thinking. Thinking and wondering about you and me." His hand rubbed against Lovino's shoulder and began to snake down his arm. "And I thought to myself, now that these two know, maybe we should just make the news public. That is, if you want to."

"What news? What do you mean?"

Feliciano opened his mouth to interject, but Erzsébet silently shushed him. This was a moment just for Antonio and Lovino.

Antonio chuckled and took Lovino's hand in his own. "That I'm _yours_ , of course! Your loyal and handsome and no-longer-secret boyfriend."

Lovino spluttered at the words. His eyes were brimming over with tears, with wonder, with delight. "W—what? I… you…" He covered his mouth, shaking his head incredulously. "Oh my God! Oh my God!"

"Lovino? You look as if you're about to cry, what's wrong? Have I done something to make you upset?" Antonio said. He brushed Lovino's cheek with his thumb as the first tear spilt over. "Should I give you a cheer up charm? I'm good at those."

"Antonio, you bastard. You stupid, incredible bastard." Lovino groaned through his tears, voice choking, but his face was alight with genuine joy. "Just shut up and hold me."

Antonio did not need telling twice. He wrapped his arms eagerly around Lovino's body, pulling him into his chest. Lovino rested his head on Antonio's shoulder. His smile grew wider and brighter still as Antonio began to kiss him— on his forehead, his cheeks, the tip of his nose, and finally, his lips. Feliciano squealed in excitement, while Erzsébet scrambled for her digital camera and snapped a few choice photographs of the embrace. Lovino and Antonio's blissful happiness, preserved forever. _Perfect._

Even when the kissing ended, Lovino stayed where he was. His smile showed no signs of dissipating, especially when Antonio's hands began to casually caress his back. Only Feliciano seemed to rival his joy, clapping his hands together with a huge grin on his face. "Yay, Lovi! You finally managed to pluck up the courage to be honest with your feelings, I'm so proud," he said.

"Tch, it's got nothing to do with courage, idiot. I—I just needed time to decide, that's all!" Lovino said, feigning a scowl. Antonio pressed a kiss into his hair.

Feliciano leaned back, resting his hand on a pillow. "Well, _I_ still think you were really brave because you never usually admit that you like people and…" He stopped abruptly, staring at the pillow in confusion. A rumble of thunder sounded overhead, distant and threatening.

"Feliciano?" said Erzsébet.

"I… I can feel something inside here," Feliciano said slowly. He glanced towards Erzsébet questioningly. "It's something that feels hard and bumpy. Why would there be something hard and bumpy in a pillow?"

Erzsébet's heart skipped a beat. "Why don't you check it and find out?"

"Hey, hold on," Lovino said, raising his head from Antonio's shoulder, "That's Sebastiano's bed. You shouldn't be looking through his personal stuff, dammit!"

"But Lovino! It could be something to do with the murders," Feliciano said.

A shadow passed over Lovino's face. "What? Sebastiano would never—!"

"Calm down, it's just a precaution," Erzsébet said, crawling over to help Feliciano tear the pillowcase away.

"But what if it's just, like, porn or something?"

"Then he should have shared it with us. Porn is expensive!" said Feliciano, "Come on, let's see."

Between the two of them, Erzsébet and Feliciano pulled off the pillowcase, and shook it out. Two transparent packets spilled out onto the pillow. The first contained several mushy golden lumps, which Erzsébet recognised as Belle's waffles. The second was filled halfway with a curious fine brownish powder, unlike anything Erzsébet had seen before. Frowning, she prodded a finger against the plastic surface. "What _is_ that?"

"Heroin," Antonio said automatically.

All eyes turned towards him. Antonio did not appear to notice. His expression was distant, troubled, and his mouth was slightly ajar.

Lovino looked aghast. "What the hell do you mean? Sebastiano doesn't take drugs. You're— you're going crazy, aren't you? You've lost your damn mind."

"No I haven't."

A heavy moment of comprehension followed this pronouncement, and the whole room thrummed with tension. Antonio's vacant expression was haunting; Lovino looked pale and stricken; Feliciano was making little gulping noises like he was fighting back frightened tears. But Erzsébet reached for the first, squashy package of cake. An awful suspicion swelled in her mind like a growth. "What about the waffles?"

Antonio took a moment to answer. "Marijuana."

Erzsébet let out a breath of hollow laughter. God, it all seemed so obvious. Roderich's inexplicable illness, Lars' tropical greenhouse, Sebastiano's red, bloodshot eyes and bizarre energy slumps… why hadn't she been able to connect the dots before?

"I told him this would happen." By now, Antonio appeared to be mumbling to himself. He sighed deeply and raised his head towards the ceiling. "I _told_ him— and Belle too. They were never going to get away with it forever… someone was always bound to find out…"

Feliciano gasped. "You _knew?_ You knew that this was here all along?"

Lovino gaped at him, half-outraged, half-aggrieved. "Why didn't you tell me? I'm your b—boyfriend, and his _brother_ , dammit!"

"I know Lovi, I know. I just thought…" Antonio rubbed at his forehead and gave another resigned sigh. "Look, don't ask me about this, ask Sebastiano. It's his secret to tell."

"But can't you—?" asked Feliciano.

"Find Sebastiano." Antonio repeated, his voice horse with uncharacteristic seriousness. "Find him, and talk to him. He's got a lot to explain."

* * *

 _To be continued next week..._

* * *

 _Well done to everyone who guessed the secret about the marijuana laced waffles. It seems that I perhaps didn't manage to keep that one as unfathomable as I'd have liked :P. In contrast, only one or two people managed to guess the Antonio/Lovino twist, so extra congratulations to anyone who worked that one out. I apologise to anyone who doesn't like the pairing, or who was expecting Antonio to get together with Belle instead after my early hints. (If it's any consolation, I'm very fond of SpaBel too!) Unfortunately, due to the nature of murder mysteries, I had to keep that one concealed._

 _Thank you to everyone who's been patient and stuck with me through these two shorter chapters. I really do appreciate all your feedback and support. To make up for it, the chapter next week is going to be quite a good deal longer. And probably quite a good deal more dramatic too..._


	18. Chapter 18

By the time Erzsébet reached the van Rjin's caravan, the thunder had died away. The rain, however, continued to pour down incessantly, pummelling Ludwig's huge black umbrella. A droplet splashed on her arm as she walked and Erzsébet shivered. It felt as cold as ice.

Neither she, nor her companion holding the umbrella spoke when they reached the caravan door. The vehicle seemed even more imposing than before, making Erzsébet's palms sweat and her head spin. She fought to keep control over her breathing. After all, their instructions were simple enough. If everything went to plan here, they could be wrapping up the case completely within half and hour. If it didn't… well, that was something she did not want to think about. Underfoot, the damp grass leaked moisture into her shoes, making her toes wet.

"Erzsébet, are you afraid?" Roderich asked suddenly. His cheeks were ruddy from the brisk walk but his posture was tense. _Too_ tense.

Erzsébet gave a shaky laugh. "Of course I am! Are you?"

"I am reassured by the prospect of this being over soon," Roderich said, "But if you must know, I can hardly breathe for terror."

Oh, now _that_ was utterly adorable. In spite of the rain, in spite of her unbearable fear, a rush of warmth flooded Erzsébet's veins. She placed a reassuring hand over Roderich's as he held the umbrella. His cold, white knuckles pressed starkly against her fingers. "I'll protect you. I'll be your guardian angel," she said.

Roderich gazed at her though his misted glasses. "I know."

Erzsébet could have waited there forever, lost in the magic of Roderich's presence, but the thought of the ugly task ahead drew her away. Screwing up all her courage, she rapped three times on the caravan door. There was the sound of movement within, followed by a voice. Erzsébet's trepidation swelled. Ludwig was right— it was crazy, what they were doing, absolutely, impossibly, insanely…

The door creaked open. Belle van Rjin stood in the entrance, eyes widening in slight surprise as she regarded her visitors. "Oh… hello?"

Erzsébet's pulse was racing so fast that she could barely think. She forced a smile, telling herself over and over to remain calm. There was no way that Belle could know; no way that she could suspect they knew as much as they did. "Afternoon," she said, launching into her prepared script, "Ludwig wanted us to see you— he wants us to tell you about the possibilities of relaunching the Fireball Circus in the future. Can we… come in?"

Belle stared at them for a long, harrowing moment. Silently, Erzsébet cursed herself for the quaver in her voice. Oh God, what if her story hadn't sounded plausible? What if Belle doubted them? What if… what if she actually attacked them right here and now? Erzsébet's heart squiggled at the thought.

Then, incredibly, Belle smiled. "Sure, come in. It's been a while since we've had a chance to chat."

…

 _Sebastiano's eyes were hollow, bloodshot, lost. His skin was wan and pale, the colour of undercooked pastry. As he sat on the chair inside the Ringmaster's tent, his body slumped and sagging, Erzsébet didn't think she'd even seen anyone looking so ghostly before. Sebastiano was alive, but seemed more of a corpse than Feliks, or Gilbert, or the children._

 _The room was set out like an interrogation. Sebastiano sat on one side of the table, while she, Roderich, Lovino, Feliciano and Ludwig sat on the other. Only Antonio presented as neutral, hovering by the entrance with his hands plunged in his pockets._

" _How long?" Ludwig said. His tone was stern, and made him sound like a military commander. "How long has this been going on for?"_

 _Sebastiano feebly raised his head. "Almost a year."_

" _A year?" Lovino said, "A whole damn year and you didn't tell me once?"_

" _How could I have told you? I didn't tell anyone."_

" _You fucking told Antonio!"_

" _He didn't," Antonio said quickly, "Gilbert and I already knew. I'm Belle's best friend— how could I not know what they were doing?"_

" _And you condoned it?" Ludwig said. His eyes narrowed into slits._

 _Antonio shrugged. "As far as I see it, recreational drugs should be taken at an adult's discretion."_

" _He recognised my symptoms a month ago," Sebastiano continued, "Then he and Gilbert confronted me about them. There was no point in denying it."_

" _And… what did they say?" Feliciano asked. He was curled up on Ludwig's lap, the fear glowing bronze in his eyes._

 _Sebastiano ran a hand through lank hair. "Told me he knew what was going on. Told me to stop. Told me I was too young and it was dangerous. I think Gilbert wanted to make them stop selling it to me, but at the same time, Antonio didn't want Belle to get into trouble."_

" _And I still don't," Antonio said firmly, "She's got nothing to do with the heroin— that's Lars' business."_

 _Sebastiano turned to Antonio slowly, his pupils too large and his iris too dull. "Everything you told me that morning was useless."_

 _Antonio flinched._

 _A moment of recollection jolted into Erzsébet's mind. She could almost hear Gilbert's frantic voice once again:_ "We know what you've been doing… and we know you're planning on doing it again too." _That conversation she had overheard in Antonio's tent, the night after Feliks' murder… had that been the very same confrontation that Sebastiano spoke of?_

" _This division of labour is an issue we need to clarify," Roderich said, "As I understand it currently, Lars grows the drugs in his greenhouse, while Belle is responsible for producing the powder, and baking it in waffles. Am I correct?"_

 _Sebastiano nodded. "Yeah, it's a mass production. But they don't ever bake the heroin."_

 _Lovino snorted. "Some consolation!"_

" _Do you know how many people they have been selling it to?" Roderich asked._

" _I don't know. A lot, I think." Sebastiano said, "They've got a whole network in Bavaria, but I wouldn't know anything more. They don't ever say…"_

 _The revelation seemed to trouble Ludwig. His eyebrows drew together uneasily. "Were they selling it to our customers? To other members of the circus?"_

" _Both. At least, I think it was both." Sebastiano paused for a moment, thinking deeply. "Feliks… I know Feliks used to buy marijuana. But he was okay, he used it moderately, and in isolation. He didn't become addicted…"_

 _This was news to_ _Erzsébet._ _She shook her head, wondering how it could be that Feliks shared every secret with her, but kept this one hidden. Surely it was impossible._ _"Are you certain?" she asked, "He never said anything about it…"_

" _Positive. Although… he stopped using it a couple of months ago. He and the van Rjins had some sort of fight about it. I'm not sure what it was about." Sebastino groaned suddenly and rested his head on the table. "Oh, I'm so tired. So very tired…" His eyelids began to droop closed._

" _Sebastiano! No! Don't fall asleep, you mustn't fall asleep!" Feliciano wriggled in attempt to reach his brother, but Ludwig held him back firmly._

" _Leave him be,_ Liebling. _He needs rest._ _"_

 _Antonio shuffled towards the table, guilty as a beggar. "I can help him back to his tent. He will be safe with me."_

 _Ludwig inclined his head. "Thank you, Antonio."_

 _Gently, Antonio lifted the boy's limp arm and slung it over his shoulder._ _Erzsébet watched as Sebastiano staggered out of the tent, hoping the ease with which Antonio helped him was a testament to Antonio's strength rather than Sebastiano's weakness._

 _As soon as they had left, Lovino let out a strangled cry, "Fuck's sake! How could I let this happen? I'm supposed to be the one looking after him, dammit!"_

" _This isn't your fault," Erzsébet said, "Sebastiano must have known the risks involved."_

" _He hid it from us, and lied to us, and I think he even stole money from us too," said Feliciano. His voice jumped hurt, fragile octaves as he spoke. "That isn't something a good brother would do, Lovino."_

 _Ludwig rubbed soothing circles into Feliciano's back. "You are forgetting something. Belle and Lars are the ones who sold him these drugs. They are the ones to blame."_

 _Roderich nodded. "They ought to have known better than to take on a seventeen-year-old customer. Had they any sense of decency, they should have refused to give him anything."_

 _There was a sudden flash outside, followed by a rippling crack of thunder. Everyone jumped. The sound had been loud enough to pass for a gunshot._

" _There is only one question that remains now," Ludwig said after the noise faded away, "Can we consider this incident to be linked in any way to…?" He trailed off, seemingly unable to complete his sentence. Lovino found the words in his stead._

" _You're asking whether this has anything to do with the murders, aren't you?"_

 _Ludwig nodded._

 _The room fell into silence, stirred only by the echoing pelt of raindrops outside. Ludwig's question carried a momentous consequence that was somehow terrifying, devastating to consider. But Erzsébet already knew the answer. She had known as soon as she saw the packets in the Vargas' tent, and felt the loose information connecting like an electric circuit in her mind._

" _Yes."_

 _All eyes drew to her like metal to a magnet. Steeling herself, Erzsébet elaborated. "I think it has_ everything _to do with the murders…"_

…

They followed Belle inside, Roderich shaking out the umbrella and folding it up to dry. Belle smiled at them sympathetically as she closed the door. "It's really coming down out there, isn't it? We haven't had a storm like that for months!"

Erzsébet nodded and took a moment to survey the caravan's interior. Very little had changed since their last visit. Luca lounged on one of the sofas, fixated with his phone. The kitchen was every inch as tidy as before, and reeked of disinfectant. Erzsébet noticed a rack of fresh waffles cooling on the side and her insides turned cold.

"Good afternoon," Roderich said, nodding towards Luca.

Luca looked up briefly. "Oh, hello! Good to see you." A distinct pinging sound resonated and he returned his attentions to the screen.

"Lilli," said Belle, by means of an explanation, "He's on his phone all the time now, texting her and messaging her on Facebook."

Erzsébet forced herself to concentrate on this happy piece of news. "Oh, that's wonderful!" She winked at Luca. "So the date was a success, I take it?"

Luca grinned back, his eyes dancing. "Oh yes. Very much so…" Another ping, and he turned away again.

Belle rolled her eyes. "I just don't understand it— he's never been like this over a girl before! Honestly…" She walked over to the kitchen area and opened the fridge. "Anyway, would you two like hot chocolate? I was just about to make some."

"If that's not too much trouble…" Erzsébet's heart began to hammer as she reached into her pocket and surreptitiously extracted her digital camera. Covering it with her hands, she struggled to set it to record mode through shaking fingers. _Don't look at it… don't look at it… she'll see you._

"Of course it isn't!" Belle smiled, and began to busy herself pouring a bottle of milk into one of the saucepans. Inwardly, Erzsébet breathed in a deep, grateful sigh.

Their work was not yet complete, however. Erzsébet waited until Belle's attention was focused on the saucepan before pushing the camera into Roderich's hands. _Go, go, go!_ Swiftly, Roderich rose to his tiptoes, and attempted to place the camera on a high shelf just beyond his reach. His struggle was almost too unbearable to watch, and Erzsébet's stomach churned with panic. All it would take was for Belle or Luca to turn around. A trail of sweat snaked down her neck; her pulse thundered through her body. Just one simple turn, and everything would fall to pieces.

But Erzsébet's ancestors must have been on her side that day because, incredibly, Belle remained where she was. Roderich managed to side the camera into place; a position that took the whole kitchen area into view. He lowered himself hastily, and exchanged a nervous glance with Erzsébet. It was done. Erzsébet could have cried out in sheer relief.

They waited a few minutes in apprehensive silence until Belle brought three steaming mugs of hot chocolate over to the counter. "This is a recipe from back home. It's _proper_ hot chocolate, you'll love it!" she said.

Erzsébet thanked her and took a sip. It was far too rich, far too sweet, and so hot that it burnt the tip of her tongue. But Erzsébet barely noticed. Now came the even riskier part of their plan. She gave Roderich a subtle nudge to prompt him. It was better that they got this over with as soon as possible.

Roderich acted upon the cue immediately, lowering his mug with feigned thoughtfulness. "You know, it would be a shame not to have anything to accompany such a delightful beverage. I don't suppose you'd mind if…?" He reached for the nearby rack of waffles, and plucked one off the top.

The response was instantaneous. Belle let go of her mug, and smacked Roderich's fingers with audible force. "NO!"

The waffle was knocked straight out of Roderich's hand and fell onto the counter. A long, uncomfortable silence followed. Erzsébet stared at Belle's dark, deadly eyes, her heart thumping so hard that she had to remind herself to breathe. She had never seen her angry before, and it was almost hard to believe that this was the same person as the Belle she knew. A second later, it all faded away and Belle returned to her cheerful self.

"Sorry about that," she said, her voice exaggeratedly sweet, "It's just… well, it's a really bad batch and I make waffles professionally. You know what its like."

"Quite alright. I really ought to have asked first, do forgive me." Roderich said, rubbing his fingers. A prominent red mark was beginning to appear where Belle's hand had made contact.

Fury shot through Erzsébet's veins like wildfire. Belle's false hospitality had become an irritant to her now, making her chest tighten and her blood boil. Yet she forced herself to keep up the charade of etiquette. "Is that another recipe from back home?"

Belle blinked and smiled, the picture of innocence. "That's right. These waffles are special, and they have a long tradition in my family."

"So what's your secret?" Erzsébet asked.

"Secret?" Caution fluttered in Belle's voice, barely detectable. "What makes you think I have a secret?"

Erzsébet leaned across the counter. She was surprised to find that she didn't feel afraid any more. Only determined. "Since you waffles are so… _special_ , I was just wondering whether the recipe had any unusual Dutch ingredients. Maybe a certain type of flour? Or a home-grown extract of vanilla?"

"Oh no, there's nothing like that, it's just—"

"Or maybe…" Roderich said, his voice lowering to a savage whisper, _"Hennep."_

"Excuse me?" Luca said, stirring, "What are you talking about?"

Erzsébet was half-expecting Belle to fly into another rage there and then. Instead, her smile grew so sweet that it became dangerous. "So you've guessed. I suppose that was to be expected after you saw Lars' greenhouse," she said, her voice untroubled, "I don't see why it should be a problem. It's a good business and money makes the world go around, as Lars likes to say. Besides, marijuana is legal back in the Netherlands, so there's no reason why it shouldn't be in Germany as well."

The tension was starting to make Erzsébet's head feel dizzy. She forced her voice to remain even. "If you were at all responsible about who you sold it to, I might agree."

"Belle," Luca was approaching the counter, looking between Erzsébet and his sister in confusion, "Belle, what's going on?"

Belle ignored him. "I don't know what you mean. We've been perfectly responsible, thank you very much."

"Sebastiano is seventeen," Roderich said.

"Oh, you know about that too, do you?" Belle laughed contemptuously, her smile growing wider and more dangerous by the minute, "My my, you two _have_ been busy little detectives, haven't you?"

Belle's mocking words rang in Erzsébet's ears, and her chest constricted into a tight knot of rage. "You sold marijuana to a seventeen year old," she said through gritted teeth, "And that's not all. You sold him heroin too."

"Sebastiano is old enough to make his own decisions."

"May I remind you that he is only a year older than Luca?" said Roderich, "Would you sell drugs to Luca, knowing of the possible consequences, knowing how badly they can affect the young?"

"Well, I don't see how this is—"

"Would you keep selling them to him when his condition deteriorated and he became addicted?" Roderich continued, "Would you keep selling them to him with the knowledge that that would have to steal from his own family in order to fund the habit?"

"No," Luca covered his mouth, taking a horrified step away, "Tell me this isn't true, Belle. Tell me it's all a mistake. Please, _please_ —"

"Go away, Luca, this doesn't concern you!" Belle snapped. She turned back to Roderich and Erzsébet, her dangerous smile now trembling slightly. "Well, so what? What are you going to do about it? The police aren't going to be interested when there's a murder case to solve."

A fierce gust of wind howled outside and the whole caravan rocked from the force. Luca stumbled, grabbing onto his sister's arm to prevent falling. She shook him off a moment later.

"Actually, I think there's a lot that could interest the police here," Erzsébet said, "Andwhen they discover what you and Lars did to make sure nobody found out, I think they'll be even _more_ interested, don't you?"

Belle froze, the colour draining from her face. "You wouldn't dare…"

"Yes," Roderich said grimly, "Yes we would."

For a moment Belle looked as if she was about to faint. Realisation seemed to dawn on her, and she gasped, clasping a shaking hand to her mouth. "Oh my God," she breathed, "It's you, isn't it? It's been you all this time."

The statement was so baffling that Erzsébet did not know how to respond. Yet neither did she have time to. The next thing she knew, Belle's eyes were darkening once more, and her face hardened with seething fury. In one smooth motion, she grabbed Erzsébet by the shoulder, drew back her fist, and plunged it straight into her stomach.

…

 _Another streak of lightning flashed nearby, briefly illuminating the gloomy tent interior. Erzsébet paused and waited for the following thunder to pass. Four pairs of eyes bore into her intently._

" _Just imagine for a moment that you were Belle or Lars," she said, "You've got a good business illegally growing and selling drugs, and you want it to continue for as long as possible. So what's your main priority?"_

 _Feliciano piped up from Ludwig's arms. "To make the waffles really tasty so they're worth eating even if you don't want marijuana."_

 _Lovino rolled his eyes. "Idiot. It's to keep everything a secret from the police,_ obviously."

" _Exactly. Getting caught means the end of the business. Your whole livelihood has to stop while you're in prison, and your activities would probably be monitored afterwards as well. It's essentially just a case of…" A shiver of foreboding danced down Erzsébet's spine."… how_ far _you're willing to go to protect this secret."_

 _The weight of the implication fell uneasily upon her audience. Nobody wanted to be the first to speak, the first to acknowledge any truth behind such a shattering accusation. Then…_

" _That's ridiculous!" scoffed Lovino._

" _I d—don't think it is," Feliciano said, swallowing hard, "You've seen how mean and scary Lars is so… it's not really ridiculous at all!"_

" _Of course it is! I mean, Lars is a creepy bastard and everything— don't get me wrong— but there's no way that anyone would be dumb enough to do anything so extreme just to get out of a few years in prison."_

" _But what if it wasn't just a few years?" Erzsébet said, "What if Lars already had a criminal record?"_

" _How on earth would you know that?" Ludwig asked._

" _Luca mentioned it in passing ages ago. I'm… not sure how serious these previous crimes were, but I'm guessing it would be enough to greatly lengthen even a minor sentence. So if Lars gets caught again, he could potentially be looking to serve_ decades."

 _Lovino bit his lip, suddenly looking very ill at ease. Ludwig, however, inclined his head. "Go on."_

 _Erzsébet braced herself. The explanation to come was not going to be easy or pleasant, but she knew that it had to be said. "A lot of this is speculation, but… just imagine you're Lars, and one of your most loyal customers announces that he's going to stop buying weed from you. It's bound to make you angry, isn't it?"_

" _You mean Feliks," Feliciano said softly._

" _Maybe you reason with him, maybe you try to make him change his mind," Erzsébet continued, "Imagine that it gets nasty. Imagine that you try to force him or blackmail him into staying your customer, and he threatens to tell the police. You realise that he's dangerous. What are you going to do?"_

" _I think we already know the answer to that," said Roderich._

 _Lovino smiled grimly. "Tch, and the asshole chose a damn perfect moment to get away with it. Of course Belle was going to vouch for his innocence!"_

" _What about Gilbert? How was he involved?" Ludwig said._

 _Erzsébet already had a response to that. "Sebastiano told us a few minutes ago— Gilbert found out about what had been happening, and wanted to get it to stop. We know that Antonio wouldn't support him, but what if he went to see Belle and Lars alone, and said that he was going to turn them in?"_

" _But how could they have murdered him? They did not even attend Oktoberfest!"_

 _Roderich looked up sharply. "Yes they did. Erzsébet and I saw them there. Another perfect opportunity, is it not? They had a cast-iron alibi backed by fellow members of the circus themselves!"_

 _Ludwig's eyes welled with tangible grief. He closed them and shook his head slowly, dazed and devastated._ _Feliciano wriggled slightly on his lap. "I've just had a thought— what about those messages? If Belle and Lars really were killing people to stop them telling the police, why would they leave writing about a place? It doesn't make any sense for them to be writing about a place!"_

" _Feli dear, have you heard of a red herring?" Erzsébet asked._

" _Oooh, are they those orange fishes? I've heard that in Scotland they even eat them for breakfast although I don't think that's a very good idea because—"_

 _Roderich coughed. "I think what Erzsébet means is that Lars and Belle deliberately left random messages in order to throw us off course."_

" _Oh."_

 _Lovino smirked. "Dipshit."_

" _Anyway," Erzsébet said, "We know that Peter and Charlotte broke into Lars' greenhouse before, so I don't think it's too much of a stretch to imagine them doing it again. Only this time… I don't think Lars was so forgiving about it."_

 _Ludwig ran a hand through his hair. "Good grief. They were only children! Would they even have_ recognised _marijuana growing?"_

" _Possibly," Erzsébet said, shrugging, "But I think it's more likely that Lars was growing paranoid by then. He probably saw them in there, panicked, and could only think of one way of dealing with it. Killing two people is bound to have psychological consequences."_

" _But I thought they were killed in your tent!" Feliciano said._

 _Lovino snorted. "Yeah. However fucked-up Lars' is, I still can't see him dragging corpses across the damn circus."_

 _Erzsébet narrowed her eyes in thought. Actually, that was something that she hadn't taken into account. Just as she started racking her brains for a solution, Roderich spoke, "If the children realised that Lars had seen them, it is perfectly natural to assume that they would run away. Since they trusted Erzsébet, her tent would have been one of the first option for a safe destination."_

" _But Erzsébet was, of course, out that evening…" Ludwig started warily._

" _Correct. So they essentially found themselves at a dead end inside her tent," said Roderich, "Lars must have caught them up soon afterwards, and… well, we know the rest."_

 _There was another, more distant crackle of thunder, and the wind wailed. An uneasy quiet engulfed the room. Lovino glanced at the entrance, chewing his thumbnail restlessly. "How can we be sure that Sebastiano's going to be okay?" He whispered, "People die of heroin overdoses, don't they?"_

" _We can have him admitted to a rehabilitation clinic as soon as this is over," said Ludwig._

 _Lovino glared icily, and seemed on the verge of snapping at him. Then, his shoulders sagged and he sighed. "Sure. Whatever."_

 _There was another thoughtful pause, then Feliciano sat bolt upright. "Oooh, I've remembered something! Ludwig, you have a translator app; can you look up the Dutch word for marijuana, please?"_

 _If Ludwig thought it was an odd request, it did not show on his face. He extracted his Blackberry from a pocket and began tapping the screen._ "Hennep, _" he said, peering closely, "At least, that is how I think it is pronounced. I've not seen the word before."_

" _Ve~ I thought so_ ," _said Feliciano, "That must mean that the funny writing in the caravan was Dutch. I've cracked the secret code!"_

 _Erzsébet turned to him in excitement._ _"Feli, that's brilliant! That paper must be record of the van Rjins' marijuana sales. We can translate it and work out who they have been selling it to, and in what quantities."_

" _Then what are we waiting for?" Roderich said, "We know that Lars is responsible for these crimes, and we have enough evidence to prove it— we must hurry and contact the_ Kriminalpolizei _while we can!"_

" _No," Ludwig said, his face harrowed and weary. "We cannot go running to the_ Kriminalpolizei. _Not just yet."_

" _Why ever not?"_

 _Ludwig shook his head. "We can prove that Lars has been growing drugs, but nothing more. Think about it, we have no real way of knowing whether everything Erzsébet has said is true at all. Even if it is, and Lars is guilty, did Belle play a part also? Did Luca? It is impossible to know."_

" _So, in short, you are saying that what we have will not count as evidence?" said Roderich._

" _Exactly."_

 _A slight smirk crept onto Roderich's face. "Then we need to find something that will."_

 _He glanced towards Erzsébet, one eyebrow raised. A sudden hasty recklessness shivered down Erzsébet's spine. She remembered sitting here a week ago, when it had been her saying dangerous words and making impossible suggestions. "I think that's a wonderful idea," she said._

 _Ludwig's features turned stony as the implication dawned on him. "Absolutely not! That… that would be insanity— just think of the risk involved! It's… it's…" He tugged a hand through his hair and shook his head, "It is too risky."_

 _Erzsébet flashed him a grin. The adrenaline was already beginning to pump to her limbs. "Sorry, but what_ isn't _these days?"_

…

The punch flew into Erzsébet's gut before she could even register its approach. She staggered backwards, clutching the counter for support. Every breath of air inside had been knocked from her lungs. Eyes swimming, she gasped for oxygen. Then, somebody shrieked close by.

"Erzsébet! Look out!"

Erzsébet glanced up in time to see Belle's fist shooting towards her again. She ducked instinctively. The punch sailed over her head with a harsh _snap._

Fire surged into Erzsébet's limbs as she acknowledged the situation. Belle wanted to fight her. Belle wanted to hurt her, possibly even to kill her. Her hands tightened into fists and her vision turned red.

"Roderich, take Luca! You've got to get him out of here!" Erzsébet yelled. Without thinking, she grabbed the nearest mug and hurled it at Belle's head. It smacked straight into its target, knocking Belle backwards. Hot chocolate sloshed over the kitchen worktops.

Roderich was pressed against the caravan wall, immobilised by shock. For a moment, he seemed too stunned to comprehend. Then Belle raised her head, wincing from the pain. Luca made a frantic movement towards her, and Roderich sprang into action. He grabbed Luca from behind, clasped his arms around him, and hauled him aside. Luca squirmed and struggled furiously against his hold. As Roderich dragged him towards the entrance with difficulty, Luca began to snarl.

"Let me go, she's my sister! LET ME GO!"

"Stop this! Just come with me, just—"

"SHE'LL GET HURT!"

"STOP THIS! It isn't safe, you fool!"

Erzsébet wanted to watch, wanted to ensure that they both made it out safely. But Belle was recovering. She struck out again with her foot, wide of the mark, but close. Erzsébet took a cautious step backwards. Belle took an assertive step forwards. They circled each other slowly around the kitchen; their fists raised; their breathing already heavy. Erzsébet scanned her opponent for a target. If she could just reach out… just sweep her foot around Belle's heel, she'd have her on the floor in an instant. She could do it. She knew she could do it so easily…

Suddenly, Belle darted at her. Erzsébet was too startled to dodge properly, and the fierce punch smacked her on the chin. There was a horrible _crunch_ as Erzsébet reeled. Her mouth filled with the taste of blood. Doubling over, she spat onto the floor, coughing and spluttering.

Belle loomed above her. "Struggling?" Her voice was sugary sweet.

Erzsébet straightened and wiped her mouth. "Fuck you. _Criminal."_

The final word seemed to enrage her opponent. She pounced, and Erzsébet ducked under the attack, jamming her knee into Belle's stomach. A grunt of pain followed as Belle slammed into the counter behind. She was struggling to pull herself upright. Erzsébet threw her a clumsy punch, and Belle swerved out of the way.

"You think you could get away with it?" Erzsébet could not control her angry words. "You think you could do all of this to cover up your own shit? I'll fucking crush you, you bastard!"

Another punch; another swift dodge. Belle hissed in reply.

Minutes blurred into seconds. They moved, they clashed, they separated. On and on, together and apart and together until Erzsébet's blood thundered and sweat poured over her eyes. Belle's fists clattered into her, and her foot lashed like a sprung whip. Her fingernails bit and scraped against Erzsébet's scalp. It was fast and grueling and disorientating. But in the midst of blood and exhaustion, Erzsébet gave as good as she got.

Before long, they were circling again. Only this time, it was Erzsébet advancing, and Belle hastily backing away. She seemed surprised when she bumped against the kitchen cabinet behind her. Erzsébet grinned. _Cornered._

She grabbed Belle's arm and twisted it behind her back. Belle gasped sharply. She began to writhe under Erzsébet's grip. Erzsébet heard the rasp of ripping sleeve material, and hastily renewed her hold on Belle's wrist. Everything seemed to speed up around her. Erzsébet's heart swelled with sudden confidence.

Snarling, Belle attempted to headbutt her in the chest. Erzsébet pushed her head aside and punched her stomach. The groan of agony rang in her ears.

"Give up yet?" Erzsébet hit her again and again. Belle's cries were growing louder. "You know I'm just gonna shred you to pieces if you don't!"

To prove the point, she slammed her elbow into Belle's face. There was a sickening _crack._ Belle shrieked so severely that the sound sent a shiver down Erzsébet's spine. But she could not stop. Nothing could make her stop now. Heat washed over her mind. Her ears began to buzz loudly. Nothing in the world could shake her from this state— this glorious, overwhelming, rushing ecstasy that thrilled every bone in her body. She was simply drunk on violence— and loving every moment. Erzsébet laughed out loud, and raised her fist again.

Then, she could hear another voice screaming nearby.

"Erzsébet! That is enough!"

The anxious shout broke through Erzsébet's haze. Her world rapidly slowed back to normal. She glanced behind. Roderich had reappeared at the entrance. His body was stiff with fright, and his face was creased with outrage. Erzsébet hesitated, her grip loosening.

It was all that Belle needed. In an instant, she wriggled her hand from Erzsébet's grasp. Erzsébet made a swipe for her wrist, but Belle sprang out of the way. There was a huge smear of blood leaking from her nose all the way down to her chin. It took a moment for Erzsébet to realise that she had caused it. Desperate, she aimed a kick into Belle's side. Belle dodged to the left, and yanked open one of the kitchen cabinets. For a moment, Erzsébet was baffled. Then, she emerged, and Erzsébet stumbled backwards. Fear clawed up her throat.

Belle was wielding a frying pan.

The pan swung towards her in a powerful swoop. Erzsébet ducked so fast that she almost lost her footing. _Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit._ She scurried back as quickly as possible, retreating behind the counter. Belle's bloody face lit up with malicious delight. Roderich started forwards with an angry shout, perhaps hoping to restrain her, but Belle was too quick. She simply span around and kicked him hard in the chest. Roderich's body crumpled. As he wheezed and hunched over, Belle shoved him straight out of the caravan, slamming the door behind him.

A ferocious jolt stabbed through Erzsébet's heart. Anger exploded inside, deeper than anything she'd known before. She wanted to scream, charge over, smash Belle's stupid face into a pulp. But she couldn't. Belle was the one who had a weapon. Not knowing what else to do, Erzsébet flung another mug towards her. Belle deflected it with the pan. The mug smashed on impact, sending a spray of hot chocolate and broken china flying across the room.

Belle continued advancing; Erzsébet continued to retreat. The sickly scent of hot chocolate filled her nostrils, and she swallowed another thick mouthful of blood. Belle was gaining on her. The frying pan rushed at her with a shill ring, and Erzsébet barely managed to dodge this time.

"You don't have a clue, do you?" Belle growled. She swung the pan; Erzsébet swerved out of the way. "How dare you threaten to call the authorities? How dare you turn my brother and me into villains? You think this is _justice?"_ She brandished the pan again with unexpected speed. Erzsébet ducked— half a second too late. The hard, cold metal struck her on the forehead.

Fire erupted over where the pan made contact. This time, Erzsébet could not prevent herself from crying out. It felt as if her entire skull had been split open. She swayed, struggling to keep consciousness. The world span in a dizzy blur before her eyes, then toppled forwards. The caravan floor rushed up to meet her. Erzsébet lay still on the hard surface, her head throbbing.

"Ha!"

Dully, Erzsébet registered the frying pan moving, and rolled to one side. The motion seemed to make her brain turn painfully. Some of the feeling was beginning to come back to her now, and her heart lurched with realisation. What was she doing lying on the floor? Her fingers clawed at the lacquered wood. She couldn't stay here! Belle was going to get her, Belle was going to win…

She flopped out of the way of another strike from the frying pan. The pain in her head was utterly excruciating, but she forced herself to fight through it. Lifting her foot, she kicked Belle in the shin as hard as she could. Belle recoiled. Erzsébet took advantage of the hesitation, scrambling to her feet. Getting up was such an effort that it made her head reel. She concentrated hard on regaining her footing, trying to ignore the alarm bells blaring in her mind. She was injured and fatigued almost to the point of collapse. She knew she could not keep this up for much longer…

When Belle lifted her frying pan once more, Erzsébet did the only thing she could. She lunged at her. Belle's body crashed against hers like a wall of bricks, the force of it rattling Erzsébet's bones. Yet she was the one with the advantage— both of strength, and of surprise. Belle toppled, then fell with a gasp, dragging Erzsébet on top of her.

The two of them struggled on the caravan floor. Belle was still holding the pan. She carried on swinging it clumsily towards Erzsébet's face, scratching at her neck with her other hand. Her fingernails dug into Erzsébet's throat like needles, and Erzsébet resisted the urge to choke. She strained to snatch Belle's hand as she wielded the pan. Underneath her, she could feel the rapid rise and fall of the other woman's chest.

Another blundering struggle, and Erzsébet's hand tightened around Belle's wrist. Belle thrashed around in anguish, flailing to free herself. Erzsébet straddled her body to pin her down. Using both hands, she desperately tried to wrench the pan from Belle's grip. She peeled one finger off the handle. Then two. Belle snarled and squirmed, now tightening her other hand in a chokehold around Erzsébet's neck. Erzsébet's eyes began to water. She plucked away the third finger determinedly. Her lungs were already screaming for oxygen.

Finally, Erzsébet's pried Belle's forth finger from the handle. The frying pan span from her grasp. Belle screamed, groping for it, but Erzsébet was there first. She reached across the floor and clutched onto the handle. Dizzying euphoria spread through her body. Now there was only one thing left to do. Without hesitation, Erzsébet raised the pan and brought it with a _crack_ over Belle's head. Belle's body slumped. Her grip on Erzsébet's neck loosened instantly. Erzsébet tensed, half-expecting movement, but her fears were unfounded. Belle had been knocked completely unconscious.

Erzsébet dropped the frying pan, letting it fall to the floor with an echoing clang. She rolled off Belle's body and collapsed beside her. Her exhaustion was so overpowering that she could barely even process the relief. Blood oozed from her mouth in sticky lumps, mingling with spit. Every rasping breath she took seemed to grate against her throat. She could feel the sweat clinging to her clothes; plastering her hair to her forehead. Her pulse bulged against her neck.

Then, there was a gentle hand upon her back, easing her upright. "Erzsébet?"

Erzsébet allowed herself to give in to the comfort. She flopped against a familiar pair of arms, coughing and breathing heavily. When she opened her eyes, Roderich's beautiful, concerned face swam into view before her.

"You're bleeding!" Roderich said. He traced his fingers over the gash on her cheek, and the steady stream of blood running down her chin. "Are you quite badly hurt?"

Erzsébet winced. "No. Bit my— _huh huh—_ tongue during the fight. Head hurts more, but I'll— _huh—_ be fine. How're you?"

"A little winded, but recovering. And we still ought to see to _your_ injuries," said Roderich. Erzsébet managed a smile, and let her head fall against his chest. Although she didn't say it, his concern on her behalf was worth more to her than a thousand hard-fought victories.

She closed her eyes contentedly. "You're making me feel like some sort of— _huh—_ war hero. And you're the dainty nurse who wants to tend to my wounds."

She expected Roderich to laugh. Instead, he let out a deep sigh. "Erzsébet, you went too far during that fight."

Her eyes snapped open. "What?"

"You were out of control. Violent. Brutish. I am glad Luca was not there to see it, for I suspect it would have terrified him."

Erzsébet let her gaze flick over to Belle's limp body. Her face was battered, bloodied, and swollen like a bruised fruit. Erzsébet's insides squirmed. Angry with herself, she shook the feeling away. There was no reason for her to feel any sympathy towards the van Rjins— not after everything they had done.

"She a _murderer,"_ Erzsébet spat.

"Indeed, but _you're_ not." Roderich reminded her. He wiped away trickle of blood leaking from her mouth with his thumb. "I know what you did was in order to protect people, and I think that was exceedingly gallant of you. But next time, control your anger. Be a guardian angel, not a ruthless barbarian."

Erzsébet could not speak. The words were shattering, humbling, and struck her more sharply than any of the blows she had taken. It troubled her to realise that Roderich might be right. She had left Belle mangled and unconscious. She had broken her nose out of pure spite. Certainly, self-defence had been necessary, but the bloodthirsty frenzy was not. Erzsébet coughed again. Her pulse was slowing; her breaths were coming out more naturally, but her heart felt low and humiliated.

"Did we catch all of that on film?" she asked, eager to change the subject.

"I believe so. Allow me to check." Roderich carefully lowered her body and walked towards the shelf on which Erzsébet's camera rested. He rose to his tiptoes to retrieve it. "All in order."

Erzsébet breathed in deeply, then resisted a choke. The mixed scent of blood and hot chocolate was starting to become nauseating. She put a hand to her forehead, gingerly feeling a throbbing lump that protruded there. "Good. Let's tell Ludwig now. That's all the evidence we need."

…

Later, Ludwig arrived at the caravan to collect Belle's body and the video recording. His eyes scanned over the room, lingering on the shattered china, flecks of hot chocolate splattering the walls, and Erzsébet's bloody, dishevelled appearance. Yet he said nothing. Erzsébet thought it best to sit quietly on the sofas with Roderich while they waited for the police, sharing the remaining mug of hot chocolate between them. It all felt like a dream; the security of Roderich's arm around her shoulder almost an unreal presence. She could not believe that everything was truly over. The whole, nightmarish mystery had gone on for so long and occupied so many of her waking thoughts that the idea of its resolution seemed incomprehensible. Erzsébet tried not to think about it too hard. Instead she leant into Roderich's body, breathed in his scent, and let the pain fade into nothingness.

Erzsébet wasn't sure whether it was ten minutes or ten hours later when the shouts outside began. She sat upright and listened. The voices sounded slightly too distant for the words or owners to be distinguishable, but one thing for certain was that they were all incessantly angry.

"Is that—" Roderich said.

Erzsébet placed a hand on his chest. _"Shhhhh!"_

There was a loud thud, followed by the trill of smashing glass. The voices were gradually growing louder. Then, a roar of fury echoed nearby.

"I DIDN'T DO IT!"

Roderich tensed. Erzsébet, however, jumped to her feet, recoiling from the pain, and followed the commotion to its source. She flung open the caravan door to see Lars kneeling on the wet grass in front of the greenhouse. His scarf was bedraggled, his jacket torn, and his hands had been forced behind his back. Behind him stood the intimidating female _Schutzpolizei_ officer, who was busy clamping a pair of handcuffs to his wrists. The nosebleed that she was sporting, coupled with the bruise over Lars left eye suggested that he had put up just as fierce a fight as his sister.

"Lars van Rjin, we're arrestin' y' for illegally growin' drugs, an' on 'spicion on murderin' Feliks Lukasiewicz, Gilbert Beilschmidt, an'—"

"I DIDN'T FUCKING DO IT!" Lars thrashed around in fury, and made a frenzied effort to get to his feet. The officer held his shoulders down firmly.

"Whooo, he's a tricky one, isn't he? Just wait 'til Tino hears about this!" Mathias and Lukas were emerging from the back entrance of the greenhouse— Lukas carrying a clipboard under his arms. Neither of them looked like they had been hurt during the incident.

The _Schutzpolizei_ officer looked up at their approach. "Least this one doesn't hafta go t' hospital first. Even if he deserves it after what he did t' m'son."

"Fair point," said Mathias, "Although ya still gave him what was coming to him, didn't ya? That's my girl!" He clapped her on the shoulder and grinned.

"I'll admit to the marijuana and heroin," Lars said, his face stony, "But we didn't commit those murders. I'd _never_ kill anyone!"

Mathias folded his arms. He looked as if he was enjoying himself. "Oh yeah? That's not what we've got written here. Show him the records, Lu-Lu!"

Lukas threw him a terrifyingly dirty look. "How many times, Officer? _You do not use pet-names for me while we are on duty!"_

"Heh, sorry. I meant, 'Show him the records, great, handsome Officer Bondevik!'"

Lukas ignored the jibe, and flipped over the top sheet of paper. "According to the information we have, you were detained by police in Amsterdam nine years ago, and spent a short amount of time in a juvenile institution. The charges were on gang violence, particularly involving one incident in which a man was killed."

Mathias flashed Lars a smug grin. "See? What have ya got to say about _that?"_

Lars spat on the grass by Mathias' feet. "Wasn't even me."

"That's not what the evidence shows," Lukas said, "Unless of course we've mistaken you for some other Lars van Rjin with a scar over his right eye."

"I was fifteen!" Lars howled. He was growing increasingly desperate by the second. "Fifteen, and an underling in a gang. I didn't plan that— the fuckers dragged me along for the entertainment value!"

Lukas stared back, blankly. "A criminal record is a criminal record, Mr van Rjin."

"It was an accident! I'm innocent! INNOCENT!"

"Guess yer going to have to tell that to the judge, buddy," said Mathias. He helped the _Schutzpolizei_ officer haul Lars to his feet. "C'mon, let's get him to the station real quick. It looks like it's going to rain again…"

Erzsébet watched as the three of them half-escorted, half-dragged him across the field and out of sight. The whole way through, Lars continued to struggle— his protests ringing across the circus grounds— but the efforts were in vain. Nobody was listening to him anymore.

* * *

 _To be continued…_

* * *

 _Nothing more to say except the usual 'thank you's to all my readers. It may seem trite to repeat the same sentiment, but I really do mean it._


	19. Chapter 19

For the second time that month, Erzsébet found herself putting patriotism aside to participate in a toast. Last time, it had been with a mug of beer at Oktoberfest. Now, it was with a cheap flute of champagne in the Ringmaster's tent. Her glass chimed as she clinked it against three others, and the alcohol burned all the way down her throat.

"So what's gonna happen to Belle and Lars now?" Alfred asked once he had drunk his fill. He had only been told about the arrests an hour ago, and still seemed very confused with the details.

Roderich carefully rested his empty glass on the table. "They will be tried and sentenced soon. I expect some of us will be required to give evidence in court, and witness statements in the meantime."

"So I guess we've gotta stick around for that?"

Ludwig smiled. "Yes, Alfred. We will have to stick around for that."

Erzsébet couldn't think of anything to say, so she took another gulp of her drink. She wasn't sure whether it was the champagne or the catharsis, but something was making her head feel dizzy. Everything was over. Finally, the end was in sight. She knew that the transition back to normality wouldn't be easy. Scars had been created that were likely to remain for years to come. But for now, she was content to simply celebrate today.

Ludwig poured everyone refills and they drank again— to the circus, to lost lives, to justice. Afterwards, Erzsébet twirled the flute between her fingers, contemplating. Her physical injuries stung painfully, but it was inside where she felt most raw and hurt. "You know, it's still difficult to accept that Lars and Belle did this," she murmured.

Ludwig nodded gravely. "I understand. I have worked with them for several years now. They always seemed like good people."

Alfred shrugged. "I guess that's the thing. People see what they're expectin' to see, even when the truth is right in front of 'em," He drained the glass, and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "But y'know what? They ain't gonna hurt us no more."

"That's certainly true," said Roderich, "We are free now… free to pursue our hearts' desires."

As he spoke, Roderich lifted his head and his eyes met Erzsébet's for a fleeting moment. It was the briefest of glances, the slightest of silent smiles, but somehow it felt endless. Erzsébet's stomach turned in circles, and her chest filled with a familiar bright glow. She busied herself pretending to take a drink, even though only droplets remained in her glass.

The conversation continued, but Roderich's words were all that Erzsébet could think about. She wasn't stupid. By now, she was well aware that this staggering, unspoken attraction was going to have to be addressed sooner or later. And when it was… well, it could be incredible. It could be terrible. It could have the potential to make her dreams come true or to crush them right before her eyes. Because deep down, Erzsébet knew that she could not imagine life without this sensitive, haughty young Austrian. And that was a truly frightening thing to acknowledge.

…

Erzsébet was pleasantly surprised by how settled everything became over the next two weeks. Visits from the police were frequent initially, but lessened after the first few days. She was used to giving evidence by this point, and most of the time the police just left her and the other circus members alone anyway. Another more frustrating constant in this time was Roderich's ever-increasing presence. Every day, Erzsébet resolved to tell him her feelings; every day, her nerve failed her. Roderich too, seemed just as reluctant to make a move. But even throughout the continued silence, Erzsébet sensed something charged about their interactions. She sensed something building whenever they talked and laughed together that was growing impossible to ignore. Roderich still looked at her differently, still spoke to her differently, and when he smiled, he smiled at Erzsébet alone.

On the second weekend after the arrests, Erzsébet sat in her tent, aimlessly reading her _Attack on Titan_ doujinshi in the futile attempt to expel all thoughts of Roderich from her mind. With only eight members remaining, the circus grounds were unusually quiet these days. Lars and Belle were still in custardy after preliminarily pleading not guilty, and were awaiting the start of their trail. Sebastiano had been transferred to a rehabilitation clinic one week ago. Luca was allowed to stay temporarily in the care of the circus, with a more permanent arrangement to be decided after his siblings had been tried and sentenced. Erzsébet turned another page of her manga, and glanced up as she heard footsteps approaching. A moment later, her visitor appeared in the entrance.

"Hey, Erzsébet! Erzsébet! Do you mind me coming in? There isn't a no entry sign, so I thought it must be okay to come in, because this is important, but you still look really busy and everything."

Erzsébet lowered the doujinshi, smiling broadly. "Feli! I haven't seen you in ages! How are—?" Her grin suddenly vanished as she saw the expression on Feliciano's face. "Is everything alright, dear? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Feliciano shook his head rapidly. "No. Everything isn't alright. Everything is wrong and horrible and… and…" He looked at her with pleading eyes. "Can I sit down?"

"Of course," Erzsébet said, gesturing to the chair opposite. She tried not to let herself panic at Feliciano's words. Knowing him, it was most likely that he'd found a dead bird or something. "Just take a seat while I'll get us some tea and cookies, then you can—"

"No," said Feliciano. He sat down. "Don't make tea. There isn't any time to make tea."

Erzsébet stared at him uneasily. Something here was not right at all. Never before had Feliciano refused an offer of food or drink. Erzsébet waited for him to speak, her sense of dread steadily building.

"Nobody else knows about this yet," Feliciano said. His hands fidgeted as he spoke. "I would have told Ludwig first, but he's doing something with Roderich in the Big Top. Actually, that's sort of the reason why I found out in the first place..."

"Found out _what?"_ Erzsébet asked

"Weelll… I was feeling lonely this afternoon because Ludwig wasn't there and Sebastiano's gone and Lovi was spending time with Antonio. But sometimes I play _Mario Kart_ with Alfred and that's kind of fun. So I went to his tent, and I called out but there wasn't a response, so I…" He trailed off, looking sheepish.

"So you went in anyway?"

Feliciano's face no longer looked cheerful, but so sombre that it was almost disturbing. "There was nobody inside when I entered the tent. I thought that Alfred must be out and that maybe he wouldn't mind me waiting. But then… then I found this." He reached into his pocket hesitantly and pulled out a small card. With a growing sense of trepidation, Erzsébet took it from him.

The card was an American driving licence, issued in New York State three years previously. A photograph of Alfred's face grinned up at her, accompanied with a name written underneath: ' _Alfred Francis Bonnefoy-Kirkland'._ Erzsébet stared at it in confusion. There was something very familiar about that surname, although she couldn't quite put her finger on where she'd seen it before. Yet that was not the issue at hand.

"He lied about his name? Why would he do something like that?" she said.

"Ve~ that's what I thought at first. Then I remembered that loads of people don't use their real names for all sorts of reasons, and that isn't _necessarily_ wrong, so I thought it must be okay…" Feliciano swallowed hard, and dug into his pocket again, "Until I found something else that made me change my mind…"

He thrust a second driver's licence into her hands. Erzsébet glanced at it, and did a double-take. The picture in the corner was so alike the first one that they were almost mirror images of each other. It was Alfred all over again, and yet… at the same time, this was definitely _not_ Alfred. On close comparison, the pictures were not quite identical. They had the same shining blue eyes, but the not-Alfred's were slightly deeper. They had the same golden-brown hair, but the not-Alfred's was slightly longer. The not-Alfred wasn't grinning uncontrollably as Alfred was, but wore a demure little smile instead. But the most prominent difference of all was in the name underneath: ' _Matthew Arthur Bonnefoy-Kirkland.'_

As soon as Erzsébet saw the name, she understood. Alfred had a brother. A _twin_ brother. "So… what does all this mean?"

"I don't know," Feliciano said, "But when I saw that second licence, I remembered that I'd seen the name 'Arthur Kirkland' before. It was in that article we found, remember? That man who died eight years ago in the horrible fire— that was him!"

Erzsébet breathed out slowly. Her thoughts were swirling and spinning like leaves caught in the wind. A distant phrase struck her… _It's a loss that don't ever leave you for real._ Alfred. Alfred talking about his… his… "Feli," Erzsébet said, "You don't think this Arthur Kirkland might have been Alfred's father, do you?"

"Perhaps! It would make sense… although the 'Kirkland' part is only a little bit of his name, and I don't know where the 'Francis' or 'Bonnefoy' bits come from."

 _Oh._ And just like that, Erzsébet remembered. "Hold on, Francis Bonnefoy was a friend of Antonio's."

" _Was?"_

"Yes. I saw his grave. He committed suicide eight years ago."

Feliciano's hands suddenly flew to his mouth. _"Ohhhh._ Eight years ago, Erzsi!"

"What? Why's that important?"

"Ve~ it's important because he died the same year as Arthur did," Feliciano said, "And maybe, maybe it was _because_ of what happened to Arthur!"

Erzsébet mulled the matter over. "So you think they were in a relationship? That they were both Alfred's fathers?"

"Don't _you_ think so? It's exactly what the names are saying," said Feliciano.

"It's possible, but there are probably a lot of Bonnefoys," Erzsébet said with a shrug, "We can't rely on guesswork, Feli."

Feliciano did not answer. Instead, he reached into his pocket for the third time, and drew out a worn, crumpled piece of paper. The writing was faded nearly to the point of illegibility, but it looked like a clipping from a newspaper.

"What's this?"

"The third important thing that I found inside Alfred's tent." Feliciano said. His voice sounded eerily quiet. "At least, I _think_ it's important. It could be that it's worthless but it could also be the most significant thing of all."

Erzsébet took it from him and squinted to decipher the writing. For some reason, it opened halfway through an incomplete sentence. The effect was jarring:

… _members of_ The Three Bust-keteers _— the circus' drag-queen triumvirate— as the causes of this fatal negligence. When questioned to judge the plausibility of this claim, the_ Landespolizei _refused to comment, although they later issued a statement assuring everyone involved that the matter would be investigated, and that all witness accounts would be taken seriously. Thus, whether the fire originated from a mere accident, a careless mistake of a few, or even a deliberate act of arson is still open to question. One thing, however, is nonetheless certain beneath all the resulting confusion; that the weight of Mr Kirkland's tragic death will continue to burden both the circus and all who knew him for years to come._

Erzsébet skimmed through the clipping three times, her heart growing heavier with each reading. "I think I understand. This is the second part of the article we found in the caravan, right?"

Feliciano nodded.

Erzsébet frowned. "What did the first part say, again? I've forgotten most of it."

"Well, it said that this Arthur Kirkland man had died in a fire, and that he was going to be missed and everything. And then, right at the end, it said that an eyewitness had noticed some people leaving a grill unattended backstage. But it cut off right before it mentioned who these people were!"

"So this is it, then? They're blaming this drag-queen group for starting the fire?" Erzsébet said, lowering the newspaper.

"Yes, and that's the really weird thing!" Feliciano said, "You know who _The Three Bust-keteers_ were?"

Erzsébet racked her brains. That name certainly did sound familiar… "You'll have to remind me."

"Ve~ Feliks told us during that Circus meeting, ages and ages ago. It was the drag act he used to be part of before he went solo— him, Gilbert and Ludwig. And two of them were murdered in the last month."

"Feli, are you implying something?"

Feliciano's lower lip trembled. His habitually squinty eyes were now wide and misty. "Yes. Yes, I think I am."

An oppressive silence followed these words. Erzsébet closed her eyes, trying to make sense of everything. Was Feliciano's suggestion even a possibility? There was so much that it would explain and yet… surely, it couldn't be. No, it _definitely_ couldn't be. They had already found the perpetrators of the crimes. An identity mix-up and some fluky coincidence could not change that. Erzsébet's heartbeat began to slow back to normal.

"It's all a bit too far-fetched," she told Feliciano, "I know the driving licences and the article were very unexpected, but you can't seriously be trying to blame _Alfred_ for the murders, dear. It just doesn't make sense."

"Why not?" Feliciano said, "He had a really powerful motive— more powerful than growing drugs— and if his brother was here as well then they could have posed as each other! They look so similar, you know they could. If one of them did the murders while the other was always with someone else, then Alfred would always have an alibi!"

"What about Peter and Charlotte? None of this explains why he'd want to murder them, does it?"

"Well… no, but—"

"If the murders were entirely motivated by revenge, it would be pointless to kill people who weren't involved. Not only that; it would be dangerous too."

"I guess so, but—"

"Anyway, Alfred and his brother aren't _that_ alike. If we could tell them apart in photographs, we could easily tell them apart in real life."

Feliciano rubbed the corner of his eye with his knuckles. "Maybe…"

"I think I'll go and get that tea," Erzsébet said, pushing back her chair, "I can understand why this has upset you, sweetie, but it really isn't anything to worry about. Trust me."

Feliciano offered her a weak smile, but his uncertain expression did not change. Pulling his phone from the pocket of his hoodie, he said, "I'm going to check if Ludwig's alright. Just… just to make sure."

"You do that."

Erzsébet disappeared through the beaded curtain into the rear section, and began busying herself with the teabags. A tiny particle of doubt nagged constantly at her mind, but she willed herself to focus on the mundane activity. This was just one of Feliciano's silly fears, nothing more. Over the whirr of the kettle, Erzsébet could still hear Feliciano tapping away steadily at his phone. She hummed the Austro-Hungarian national anthem to drown out the noise. A few minutes later, she returned to the main area carrying a steaming teapot, two cups, and a plate full of cookies. Feliciano was still gazing anxiously at his phone screen, one knee pulled up to his chest. He did not look up even when Erzsébet set her tea-tray on the table.

"Well, what did Ludwig say?"

Feliciano bit his lip. "He hasn't replied yet. I even tried calling him, and he didn't answer…"

"He's probably just busy."

"But he's never been this busy before! He always texts back and picks up straight away unless I've stolen his phone, and I _haven't_ stolen it this time because I'd know if I had!"

"Maybe his phone is out of battery right now," said Erzsébet. But even as she made the suggestion, it turned dry and false in her mouth. Ludwig always charged his phone. He was just too meticulous not to. She brushed the unsettling thought aside, "Why don't you have a cookie?"

Feliciano ignored the proffered plate. "Ve~ I think I'll text Roderich. I'm going to tell him that I think Alfred is doing bad things."

"Whatever makes you feel better, dear," Erzsébet said. She poured herself a cup of herbal tea and took a sip. It was much too weak, leaving a thin watery taste in her mouth.

The two of them sat in silence for several minutes longer until the shrill _ping_ of a text rattled through the room. Feliciano fumbled to read the message, and let out a squeak of alarm.

"What's wrong?" asked Erzsébet.

Feliciano did not answer. His eyes bore into the phone screen, and he clapped a hand to his mouth "No…"

Erzsébet's stomach backflipped. "Feliciano, _let me see!"_

When her request was met with continued silence, she leaned over the table and swiped the phone out of Feliciano's hands. The latest text glowed at the bottom on the screen in three stark sentences:

 _Ludwig and Roderich are unavailable._

 _Stay where you are._

 _Do not call the police._

Reading the words made Erzsébet feel like a cold, sharp dagger was crawling up her spine. The air turned close and fuzzy all around her. "Oh _shit…"_

"It's true, isn't it!' Feliciano's eyes were steadily welling up with tears, "It's true and now Alfred's got Ludwig and everything is so horrible and, and—"

"Hold on. I… I'm going to try texting back first." Erzsébet said. She began punching in the letters to form a reply:

 _Alfred, this is Erzsébet. What's going on?_

The message ébet held her breath, and waited. The chink of Feliciano's fretful fiddling with his cup and saucer screeched harshly in her ears. After another minute, the text alert sounded again, carrying a new, even shorter response:

 _If you want to live,_ stay where you are.

Erzsébet's chest tightened as if all air had been knocked out of her. Wordlessly, she handed the phone back to Feliciano. His eyes began to brim over, sending fat, fast teardrops spilling over his cheeks.

"L—Ludwig!"

"Feli, I'm so sorry," said Erzsébet, "You were right, and I should have believed you straight away."

"He's g—going to die, isn't he? Ludwig's going t—to die!" With a wail, Feliciano hunched on the chair and buried his face in his arms. His body bobbed up and down under the strain of his quiet weeping.

Erzsébet leapt up from her chair. The tent seemed to sway dangerously under her. _"No._ No, he's not."

Her voice was so firm that Feliciano raised his head, gulping back sobs. "W—what do you m—mean?"

"I mean that there's still a chance. If we act now, there might be time," Erzsébet gritted her teeth, and her hands clenched into fists. "Tell me Feli, how much do you love Ludwig?"

It took Feliciano several attempts to speak. Teardrops continued streaming from his eyes and his voice was choked with despair. But when the response came, it was as sure as ever, "T—to the end of the world and b—back again."

"And to get him back— to save his life— how much would you be willing to risk?"

" _Anything."_

Erzsébet nodded. "I thought as much."

Feliciano drew the sleeve of his hoodie across his nose. "Does this mean that you have a plan?"

"I think I might do," said Erzsébet. There was so much to process, but she knew they had to act in any way they could. Fast. "But if you're going to be a part of it, I'm going to need you to be very calm and very brave. Can you do that for me?"

The words were barely out of her mouth before Feliciano was on his feet, dragging her into a scrambled hug. "Yes! Yes, of course I can! I mean, I'm not normally very calm or brave or useful or secretive or anything," He pulled out of the embrace and sniffed loudly. "But I _can_ be. For Ludwig."

Erzsébet ruffled his hair, smiling. "I know you can. Now let's do this."

She led Feliciano out of her tent, and together they hurried across the empty circus grounds. For such a familiar journey, it felt shockingly alien. Erzsébet's body had become weightless inside— giddy and angry and frantic all at once. But more than anything, she felt determined. This nightmare had endured for long enough. Now they had a chance to finally break its hold.

When the big top came within sight, Feliciano suddenly grabbed Erzsébet's hand and clung onto it tightly. Erzsébet could feel the sweat coating his palm. "There! There's something written, can you see that?" He gestured with his other hand.

Erzsébet squinted. There was a black smudge over the entrance, although it was impossible to tell exactly what it was from here. Only when they came closer did the smudge became letters, and the letters became one, bold word. _PARENTIS._

There was silence for a moment as Erzsébet gazed at the writing, somewhere between horrified and completely baffled. Then…

" _In loco parentis,"_ breathed Feliciano.

"What does that mean?"

" _In place of the parents_. It's actually…" He broke off and gave a humourless little giggle. "Actually a really common Latin phrase. It seems so obvious now, I should have realised…"

"Never mind that now," Erzsébet said quickly. Her heart was thumping fit to burst. "The two times we've seen these messages before, they were accompanied by dead bodies. Ludwig is in serious danger— and probably Roderich too."

Feliciano turned to her, his expression resolute. "What do you want me to do?"

"Sneak through the back entrance. There's box tower you can access from there which gives you full view of the stage, do you know the one I mean?"

"I think so…"

"Alert the police from there. You'll be able to describe the situation to them in full, and they can react accordingly."

Feliciano nodded frantically. "Got it! Only… don't you think Alfred will hear me? Ludwig says that I always talk really loudly on the phone."

"Not this time," Erzsébet said, holding up her own iPhone, "I'm going to call Alfred, and keep him talking for as long as I can. But there's still a huge possibility that it could go wrong. You'll have to trust that I can make it work."

"I do trust you. One hundred thousand million per cent!"

They stared at each other for a few, endless seconds longer. A light drizzle had whipped up all around, speckling Feliciano's hair. The staggering pressure of risk and responsibility had never felt so tangible. Finally, Erzsébet took both of Feliciano's hands in hers and gave them a squeeze.

"Good luck. And please promise you'll be careful, dear."

Feliciano gave a wobbly faux salute. "Sir yes sir! I'll be quiet and brave and super sneaky, and Ludwig will be so proud of me when I rescue him. You have good luck too, Erzsébet!"

Then he waved, turned, and sprinted behind the big top. Erzsébet watched him disappear out of sight, her insides convulsing painfully. She hadn't been able to bring herself to tell him her agonising and highly probable fear that that Ludwig was already dead. Forcing it out of mind, she switched on her phone and dialled Alfred's number with shaking fingers. The monotonous blare pounded against her eardrums as she waited for the call to go through. Erzsébet held her breath and stared at her feet. The ground had become soggy after several days of rainfall. Her shoes were sinking into the mud.

There was a sharp click on the other side of the line. Erzsébet's heart lurched into her mouth. Then, a quiet voice spoke, "Hello, you're through to Alfred F. Jones, how can I help you?"

The man's tone sounded measured and familiar. Erzsébet suddenly realised two things at once. Firstly, she had heard this voice before. Secondly, it was not the loud, brash voice of Alfred Bonnefoy-Kirkland. She smiled wryly. Now she understood.

"Hello Matthew. This is Erzsébet."

A pause.

"So you've worked it out, eh?"

"Feliciano found your driving licences. He's the one who worked it out, not me," Erzsébet said. It seemed unreal that she should be talking so calmly to a serial killer. "Although I should have guessed before, shouldn't I? Ordinary people's auras are never that changeable. Which colour was yours, out of interest."

"Blue," said Matthew.

Erzsébet laughed bitterly. "Of course. So Alfred's aura was red. It all makes so much more sense now."

Before Matthew could respond, there was a yell on his side. "Bro, who the fuck are you talkin' to? Put it on loudspeaker!"

"Right. Sorry." Erzsébet heard a scuffle of movement, and then everything sounded much clearer.

"So Alfred is with you, then?" she asked.

"Damn right I am," came Alfred's reply, "But I thought I toldja not to move?"

"I haven't. I—I'm still in my tent. With Feliciano." The lie made her skin burn all over. "What about R—Roderich and Ludwig. Are they there too?"

"They're alive." Matthew said shortly.

Erzsébet's heart soared, but it was a fleeting motion, "Really? Why can't I hear them, then?"

"We couldn't have them screaming for help, could we? Obviously, we had to bind and gag them first."

"Dude, it sounds hella kinky when you put it like that…"

"Oh. Sorry."

Erzsébet tapped her fingers. She was not about to let this point slide. "How do I know you're not lying? Let me hear them."

"Can'tcha even believe that much? Jeez!" Alfred said, "Anyways, I don't think you're in any position to be commanding _us._ Your job is to sit tight and keep your pretty little mouth shut, 'kay?"

Angry spikes stabbed through Erzsébet's chest. She suppressed the wild urge to start shouting, and instead spat out, "Why Roderich?"

"Huh?"

"I know why you want to kill Ludwig. I don't understand, but I know why. But Roderich? Roderich wasn't involved in that fire accident." She could feel herself shaking, although not from the cold. "And that's not all. Why Peter? Why Charlotte? What did _they_ do to warrant dying?"

Her words prompted a very uneasy silence. Erzsébet heard a sigh hiss into the receiver, followed by a subdued voice. Alfred's voice. "We didn't wanna kill 'em, y'know? I mean it. Killin' children… it ain't what a hero does, usually. But we didn't have a choice."

"What do you mean? Of course you had a choice!"

"Not really," Matthew said, still in an unbearably affable tone, "They saw us, didn't they? Walked straight into our tent without knocking and saw us. They had to go after that. You know what kids are like, always blabbing all over the place, eh?"

"So why did you kill them in my tent?" Erzsébet asked.

"Mostly because of Antonio. It was darn lucky he was going out that night— I knew you'd be interested to investigate, and it gave me the perfect excuse to come along too. That left Alfred free to take them over to your place and do the rest."

"Th—that was the hardest. The hardest of all of them." said Alfred. He sounded crackly and choked. Erzsébet doubted that it was the result of bad reception.

"Speak for yourself, Alfred. It might have been easy to kill Feliks, but it's really hard to sneak up behind someone and knock them out, even if you do have a hockey stick. And— maple!— his body was heavy. I could hardy lift it…"

"Dude, you had it easy. Let's face it, the beer barrel did more work than you did!"

Erzsébet listened on in revulsion, a horrible nauseous sensation pooling in her stomach. They were talking about the murders as if they were a game. They were talking about real, human lives as if they meant nothing. Hearing any more was the last thing that she wanted to do, but she forced herself to keep the conversation going.

"You tried to kill Gilbert once before, didn't you? That time when we were underneath the stage?"

"Sure we did. It was a perfect opportunity, 'specially after you found Mattie's hideout _and_ practically all his stuff. Had to get rid of that evidence."

"You didn't have to set _everything_ on fire, you know," said Matthew, now sounding nervously reproachful, "I mean, you didn't ask for my permission, and all of my clothes were in there, and my hockey kit, and I already lost Mr Kumojeebo on the night of the performance…"

"Bro, you can't even remember that teddy bear's freakin' name! Anyways Erzsébet, we weren't tryin' to suffocate you and Roderich back then. Like I said, we were kinda hoping that we wouldn't have to kill anyone who wasn't involved."

Erzsébet chanced a peek at her watch. Her heart sank as she realised that it hadn't even been five minutes since Feliciano had left her. Was that enough time for him to get into position? Was that enough time for him to call the police? All she could do was hope. "Really? How generous of you," she said.

"Hey, we ain't the bad guys here!"

Erzsébet almost choked into her phone. _"What?_ How can you… how can you…? _You fucking murdered four people!"_

" _Killed,_ not murdered," said Alfred. He sounded as if the explanation was exasperating him. "It's not murder if you have to kill 'em."

"No. You didn't _have_ to. You didn't have to do any of this." Erzsébet paced up and down to vent her feelings. "Look, I know that your parents died, and that's very sad. But what about letting it go and moving on? What about that phrase you told me?" She strained to recall the faint memory, "Er, 'walking through flames is… er…'"

"' _What matters most is how well you walk through the fire'_?" Alfred suggested. "And you know what I didn't tell you 'bout that? The fact that it's complete and utter _bullshit_.

The final, menacing word hissed into Erzsébet's ear like a threat, and shuddered all the way down her spine. With an unpleasant shiver, she suddenly understood what this _real_ Alfred F. Jones was like. What he was capable of. "Why?" she found herself asking.

A short laugh boomed through the receiver. "That Priest didn't know shit about losing family. He never grew up in an institution. He never felt like a kid who was so worthless not even his own birthparents wanted him."

"But there was another Priest at Church," Matthew said, after a strained pause, "More of an Old Testament connoisseur. He had a much better phrase to teach us…"

" _Burning for burning, wound for wound,"_ Alfred muttered, chanting each word like a curse, "Pretty fitting, huh? There was a helluva lot of burning that day that Dad died in the fire. And there were a helluva lot of wounds when Papa hanged himself a couple of weeks later."

In spite of everything, Erzsébet felt a swell of pity inside. Then she remembered Feliks, Gilbert, and the children, and felt disgusted with herself. "And you think the way to solve it was by ruining more lives? What gives you the right to play at divine judgement?"

Matthew replied, "It isn't a right, it's an opportunity. Dad and Papa can't fight for their vengeance, but their sons can. In their image. In their place. _In…_ "

" _In Loco Parentis,"_ Erzsébet snapped, "Yes, I know. Very clever."

"Bro, didn't I keep tellin' ya to cut it with the Latin crap? I knew someone would be able to understand it."

"It was meaningful, Alfred."

"If by 'meaningful' you mean 'hella melodramatic', sure."

Erzsébet resisted the urge to check her watch again. This interrogation, this idle chatter seemed to be occupying them well enough for the time being, but how long would it be before they grew bored of her questions? She thought of Ludwig and Roderich bound in their captive, feeling every second tick by with excruciating dread.

"So, when you said you weren't the 'bad guys', is that what you meant? You see yourselves as some kind of avenging superheroes?" she asked.

Alfred answered automatically. "Sure we are! Ain't'cha ever read the _Marvel_ comics? We're not gonna kill anyone who don't deserve it."

It was a callous answer, and Erzsébet's skin burned with anger. Her voice began to shake with the strain of affected calmness. "Does that mean that you'll spare Feliciano? That you'll spare me?"

There was a thoughtful hum. "Depends. Roderich put up a pretty big fight when we tried to take Lud, so he's gotta go. But we might be able to trust you and Feliciano. At least, if you convince us you're gonna be cooperative."

" _Cooperative?"_ Erzsébetstruggled not to scream the word."You're expecting Feliciano to be _cooperative_ after killing his boyfriend?"

"Hey, hey, it ain't so bad. There are plenty of fish left in the sea. For _both_ of ya."

Erzsébet's heart flipped over as she realised what he was implying. For the first time that conversation, she found herself unable to speak.

"I gotta say, I don't get why you're so head-over-heels for him," Alfred continued, "I mean, you were never like that over Gil, and at least _he_ was good fun."

An invisible metal claw gripped at Erzsébet's gut and squeezed it tight.

"Edelstein is darn pretty though, eh?" she heard Matthew murmur.

The claw gripped tighter still. _Stay calm… just stay calm and it will be over soon…_

"I guess, but what else has he got goin' for him? Still, it's probably lucky that it's a girl who's tryin' to fuck Rod. Any _guy_ would only be able to do him after pullin' that massive stick outta his ass first."

If Erzsébet had stopped to think before acting, she might not have done it. But Alfred's last sentence seemed to burst something inside her, obliterating her final barrier of self-restraint. Only one thing made sense to her in that moment; that he got a little taste of _her_ vengeance.

"FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU SO MUCH!" she screamed, as loudly, and as forcefully as she could, "I HOPE YOU DIE AS PAINFULLY AS YOUR FUCKING PARENTS, YOU LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT!"

The words were wild and mindless, and Erzsébet regretted them the second they were out of her mouth. As her heartbeat slowed to normal, it fully dawned on her just what a stupid, stupid thing she'd done. She needed to distract the brothers for as long as possible; insulting them was the last thing they needed.

There followed one of the longest and most hideous silences that Erzsébet had ever heard. She pressed the mute receiver to her ear with shaking fingers, praying that they wouldn't hang up. Then came the awful calmness of Matthew's voice, "Erzsébet, we can hear your shouting… you're standing outside aren't you? You're standing outside the Big Top."

Panic struck hard and fast. Erzsébet almost reeled from the shock. "What? N—no I'm not, I'm—"

Alfred gave a low whistle. "Gee, I think _someone_ just blew their chances of cooperation…"

 _No…_ Hot, sick shame pooled in Erzsébet's stomach. They _knew._ She tore frantically at her hair, wishing she could rip herself apart. They knew, and it was all her _stupid_ fault! Why couldn't she have just controlled herself? She remembered Roderich's distress after her fight with Belle, his stern reminder not to let her anger overwhelm her. Now she'd made exactly the same mistake again. Only this time, she realised with dizzying horror, this time the lives of the people she loved most were at stake. Roderich, and Ludwig, and… and…

"Say Erzsébet, where's Feliciano?" asked Alfred. His voice was teasing, as if he already suspected the answer.

"Back at my tent," Erzsébet said, silently begging them to believe the lie, "He was too scared to come with me."

"Suuuuuure he is. What would be the point of callin' us from right outside if ya came alone?" Alfred paused, and called out loudly in a sing-song voice, "Hey, Feli! Little Feli! Come out, come out wherever you are!"

" _No!"_ Fear rose to her throat like vomit. "Please don't hurt him, _please!_ This was my idea, my fault… please, I'll do anything…"

But deep down, she knew that it was already too late. Footsteps pounded through the receiver, then Alfred called out to Feliciano again in the same threatening, coaxing voice. After no response, there was a heart-stopping crack, like the safety of a gun being released.

"Alright Feliciano, if ya don't come out _right now_ , I'll shoot your boyfriend," Alfred yelled, "Don't think I won't do it."

Erzsébet was so frozen with terror that she forgot to breathe. She couldn't speak, couldn't move, couldn't do anything but listen to this unbearable situation unfold. She screwed up her eyes and bit her trembling lip. _Just answer, Feli. Please._

Then she heard another voice, a little more distant, but shrill and panicked. "Waaah! Alright, alright, I'm coming! Just don't shoot him!"

"Huh. The box tower, eh?" Matthew said, "I don't suppose you'd mind telling us what you were doing up there?"

"Nothing! Nothing at a—" His voice abruptly broke into a shriek, "Ahhhh! Stop pointing that in his face!"

Alfred answered flatly, "Start telling the truth and I might consider it."

"Eeek, okay! I was so scared about what you might do to Ludwig and Roderich, and we thought there might be a chance to save him, so I ran in through the back and climbed up here and called the police, and—"

"The police?" Matthew's stunned response put an end to the babbling. "So… they're on their way?"

"Come on, bro, that was obvious. The whole reason Erzsébet called up musta been to shield the noise."

"Shit…" For the first time, Erzsébet detected something other than calmness in Matthew's voice. For the first time, he actually sounded _afraid._ "The police are coming. It's over, Alfred."

"The fuck do ya mean? I'm not leavin' here unless we kill 'em!"

"No, I don't mean that, I… wait…" The receiver suddenly softened, and Erzsébet could hear no more. Frustrated, she gave the phone a shake, but it earned her nothing more than a low humming sound. Matthew must have found some way of muffling it.

Erzsébet lowered the phone cautiously and wiped her damp palms on her skirt. _Fuck…_ A mixture of guilt and dread seared over her skin, mingling with the sweat. It wasn't fair that she standing out here in relative safety while Feliciano and the others were facing God-knows-what inside. If anything happened to them, it would be because of her mistake. The wind whipped up again without warning, sweeping her hair out of position.

Just when she was considering making a break towards the entrance, her phone crackled with noise once more. "Erzsébet? Are you still there?"

Erzsébet raised it to her ear. "What is it? What have you done?"

"We're giving you one last chance. If you want to live, you've got to get out of there. Get out of there and don't look back. Goodbye." And with that, the line fell dead.

Erzsébet swore out loud. Desperate, she jabbed her thumb against the re-call button, but the phone simply dialled and dialled until it rang out. She shoved it into her pocket angrily, her heartbeat resonating. She's been asked to leave. Only she couldn't leave. Roderich was still in there; Roderich needed her. Erzsébet swallowed a lump in her throat. Everything seemed to be so unstable all of a sudden, all whirling out of control. _Okay, calm down, calm down,_ she told herself, _just try to think rationally._ But she could not think rationally. All she could think about was Roderich.

Then, the world shattered before her eyes.

Erzsébet was not quite standing close enough to the Big Top to feel the force of the explosion, but the thunderous boomseemed to split her eardrums. Shock jolted through her legs and she stumbled over, falling to the ground. Her vision swam beyond comprehension; her body turned faint and intangible. This was not happening. It was too intense, too extreme to be real. Yet through the haze of disorientation, Erzsébet also felt a distinct sense of deja vu. She had heard a blast very much like this one before, she knew she had. And if it was the same as last time, that could only mean one thing…

As the acrid smell of smoke filled her nostrils, Erzsébet knew her suspicions were confirmed. She blinked until her eyes reeled into focus, revealing the nightmare around her. The Fireball Circus was alight once again.

* * *

 _To be continued soon..._

* * *

 _So there you have it; the big reveal. I don't believe anyone managed to guess this outcome :P_

 _._

 _Sorry for the later than usual update; I've been a bit busy recently. Hopefully this chapter should convince you that I'm certainly not going to stop updating this until the story's finished. As ever, a million thank yous to everyone for the support._


	20. Chapter 20

Erzsébet had no idea how she managed to run so fast. Her legs felt weightless and unsteady, but she urged them on with every once of strength she could muster. The oppressive burning scent grew fiercer and more pungent with every step. Erzsébet's eyes began to smart with tears, and her lungs screamed for clean oxygen. Still she ran on, towards the tent, towards danger, and towards Roderich.

She had almost reached the entrance when a second explosion detonated. Erzsébet screamed out load and clung on to the signpost for support, barely managing to keep her footing. The sound was so deafening that afterwards she felt as if her ears had been stuffed full of cotton. Everything was happening too quickly. What the hell was going on inside there? Was it possible that anyone could be badly injured? Resisting a quiver of trepidation, she continued her sprint. As she raced through the opening, an overpowering wall of heat hit her like a barrier. The air turned heavy and scorching around her, and beads of perspiration dotted over her skin. The flames seemed to leap up everywhere she cast her gaze— demolishing the arc of seats, the tent material, the already-charred stage. Erzsébet's eyes struggled to adapt to the piercing orange brightness. Then, glancing beyond the left side of the stage, she noticed the unusual rocking motion of two chairs tied back to back. Cautious hope leapt in her chest. There was surely no mistaking the blond hair and muscular frame of man who sat facing her. _Ludwig._ Erzsébet's heart trip over with giddy relief. They were alive. Thank _God._

Erzsébet didn't waste a moment. Bracing herself against the temperature, she charged over, careful to avoid the flames that snapped threateningly at her heels. She could see a streak of fire gaining on the captives at an alarming rate. The blaze lashed out against them, licking dangerously close to the base of Ludwig's chair. He thrashed his legs out in futile desperation, perhaps attempting to kick it back, whilst awkwardly shuffling the bound chairs away at the same time. Erzsébet caught a flash of chocolate-brown hair behind him. Her pace increased instantly.

"Roderich!" she called, her voice cracking, "Ludwig! I'm here!"

Ludwig raised his head, and his eyes widened in incredulity. His fringe was plastered to his forehead with sweat, a gag had been knotted around his mouth, and both his arms and legs were bound to the chair with thick rope. Aside from that, he appeared unharmed. He shook his head a fraction from side to side, as if hardly daring to believe that she was real.

"It's alright. I'm here, I'm here!" Erzsébet knelt beside the chairs, and set to work on the ropes fastening Ludwig's legs. Her trembling fingers tore at the firm cords, unable to prize them apart. "It's too tight!" she said frantically.

Ludwig's brow furrowed, then he bobbed his head downwards. Erzsébet stared at him blankly. What _was_ he trying to tell her, exactly? Ludwig repeated the gesture, and it dawned on her that he was signalling towards the left pocket of his trousers. Her hand darted inside, and extracted a metal block. A penknife. Flicking out the blade, Erzsébet cut into the ropes as hard as possible. Within less than a minute, they fell apart in her hands.

Ludwig rose hastily from the chair, spluttering as he ripped off the gag. "Erzsébet, how…?"

Erzsébet barely gave him a second glance, and darted to the second chair immediately. _Let him be okay, please, please let he be okay._ Her first, ridiculous thought was that she'd never seen him looking so dishevelled. Roderich's cheeks were flushed from the heat, his glasses had slid halfway down his nose, his cravat was loose and eschew. But none of it mattered at all. Because he was genuinely here, and he was genuinely unharmed.

She dug the knife into the ropes for all she was worth. It couldn't have taken any longer to free Roderich than Ludwig, but every second of sawing felt like an eternity. Finally, the ropes split into two. Roderich stumbled to his feet, and Erzsébet followed, discarding the knife. Their hands simultaneously scrabbled to remove the gag and toss it aside.

"Erzsébet…" Roderich said. His voice was cracked and breathless. He stared at her, completely bewildered, and lifted a wavering hand to brush her hair.

"Roderich…" Erzsébet breathed. A bubble of frenzied joy rose inside her. "You haven't even adjusted your fluffy cloth yet."

She wasn't sure which one of them moved first, but suddenly they were reaching for each other, and Roderich was pulling her close. For a heartbeat, reality undid itself. The fire, the smoke, the danger… everything evaporated, and it was only Roderich that she could feel— his damp shirt, his heavy relived breaths against her chest, the clammy sweat clinging to the nape of his neck. It was only Roderich that mattered.

"Hey!" Ludwig's voice snapped her into focus, too soon. "Now is notthe moment for this. We need to leave here. _Immediately."_

Regretfully, they broke apart, and Erzsébet's quick eyes darted around the tent. The blaze had gained vehemence since her entry. The flames billowed more fiercely than before, spreading upwards and outwards like tree branches. Almost the entire floor was surrounded. Worse, they had begun to crawl up the fabric that constituted the tent's very foundations. The rasp of tearing material sounded distinctly over the crackling.

"We can't return through the front," Erzsébet said. She stepped backwards, still frantically looking around. "Where's Alfred? Where's Matthew?"

Ludwig shook his head. "They fled just before the explosion detonated. They could be miles away now."

Erzsébet tried to reply, but accidently inhaled a lungful of smoke in the process. She doubled over in a spate of wheezing coughs.

"Erzsébet, good God!" At once, Roderich's slender hands were at her waist. "Do not breathe in deeply! You'll suffocate."

Erzsébet nodded as she straitened up, wiping her streaming eyes on her sleeve. The smoke was so thick and noxious by this point that taking any sort of breath at all felt like drowning. With nothing else at hand, she wrenched off her cardigan and held it to her mouth to prevent smoke inhalation. Roderich followed suit beside her, and fumbled to extract his handkerchief.

"Come on. We're leaving." Ludwig was already hurrying towards the back entrance, clearing the area with rapid strides. Without even thinking, Erzsébet gripped Roderich's free hand and hastened after. Roderich squawked in alarm as she dragged him with her, but she ignored him. The flames were closing in so quickly. How long would it be before they were at their feet? More to the point, where the hell was Feliciano? Could it be that he'd made it out unscathed?

A moment later, a piercing, familiar voice screamed her answer: "Ahhh! Ludwig, help, they trapped me in!"

"Feliciano!" Ahead, Ludwig's pace quickened to a run. Erzsébet frantically tried to match him, still clutching Roderich's sweaty palm like a lifeline. Suddenly, she felt herself stumble as something heavy crushed underneath her foot. Pain tore through her ankle, so sharp that Erzsébet could not help crying out.

"Erzsébet!" Roderich dropped to his knees instantly, examining the damage created. "Heavens, what have you done to yourself? Are you hurt?"

Erzsébet glanced down, grimacing in agony. Somehow, she had managed to step right through one of the surviving LED lights near the stage. Shattered glass clamped into her lower leg and trapped it in position. Even when she tried wiggling her foot, she found it to be stuck fast. Erzsébet smiled wryly. "I always told Ludwig those lights were a safety hazard."

"Never mind that now. We need to free you as quickly as possible." Roderich's hands ran over her leg swiftly, searching for the best way to lift it out of the snare. As Erzsébet fought to keep from gasping, there was an ominous groaning crack overhead. One of the wooden rafters plummeted from the ceiling, and crashed in a burning heap only a few metres away from where there were now. Erzsébet's heart leapt into her mouth.

"Roderich, you've got to get out of here," she cried, her voice braking with alarm, "Don't worry about me, just go!"

Roderich snorted loudly over the fierce crackling. "Most certainly not! Imagine how unforgivable it would be to abandon you now. Especially considering all you have risked to protect _me!"_

Erzsébet swallowed heavily, torn momentarily between fear and tenderness. "Okay. But, please, hurry up!"

Every second dragged out like an age. Erzsébet covered her mouth with the cardigan, waiting in torment while Roderich touched her sore flesh and broke away pieces of glass. She tried not to think about the fire, but it was so close— blinding and menacing and turning her head giddy. Another scorched rafter fell from above. This time, it landed near enough for Erzsébet to feel the ground shudder from the collision. She flinched in fright, struggling not to scream.

" _Shhh, shhhh."_ Roderich stroked her skin gently, sending soothing tingles shooting up her leg. "You will be alright, Erzsébet."

Erzsébet could only grit her teeth and nod. Eventually, Roderich managed to ease her ankle up and out of the gap. Blood was trickling over her shoe from when the glass cut in.

"Will you be able to walk?" Roderich asked, scrambling to his feet.

"I'm going to have to be. Come on!" Erzsébet took a step forward, reclaimed Roderich's hand, and continued running. As they darted across the floor, an unsettling ripping sound filled her ears. She wheeled her head around. The fire had finally spread to the ceiling, causing the material to sag under the strain. Her mind span nauseatingly. It would not last much longer. By now, Ludwig had long disappeared from the arena. Erzsébet could hear shouts and banging ahead, but there wasn't even time to contemplate what that might mean. She and Roderich still had several metres until the back exit, and God knew how many seconds in which to do it.

"KEEP RUNNING!" she yelled.

Roderich faltered slightly. "E—Erzsébet… I, I'm afraid I…"

"JUST DO IT!"

Another purr of tearing material… a decisive groaning sound… a sudden rush of air against her back. Erzsébet did not need to turn to know that the ceiling was collapsing. Fear and adrenaline converted into movement, and she ran as fast as her straining legs would allow it. Everything became a blur; her eyes smarting, her lungs stinging from lack of air. The heat closed in, turning her dizzier and dizzier until she could no longer hear Roderich's laboured breaths, or even feel his hand in hers. Finally, she made it through the exit and into the arch that led backstage— and to safety. Sweltering and exhausted, she dropped her cardigan and collapsed against the construction poles that kept the arch upright.

"We—we did it, Roderich…" she gasped, "We…made it."

She felt for him dazedly, hoping to fall into his arms, but her hands scrabbled at nothing more than thin air. And then it struck her. Roderich was not by her side.

"RODERICH!" Erzsébet whipped around, almost delirious with worry. She had let go of Roderich's hand. Why the fuck had she let go of Roderich's hand? He wasn't a fast runner. Ignoring her doubts that it was already too late, she forced herself back towards the entrance. Then, through the haze of dense smoke, she saw him.

It was like a scene from an old film. Roderich Edelstein was bent double in the midst of the chaos, his face red and contorted, still clutching his crumpled handkerchief to his mouth. Erzsébet screamed his name again. He raised his head. For one heartbreaking moment, their eyes met. As if spurred by her presence, he made a wobbly, half-hearted dash for the exit, just as she continued to run towards him. But it was clear that neither of them would make it. Not now. With a final, sweeping gesture, the burning ceiling fell like the curtain of a play, engulfing Roderich in its collapse.

Erzsébet stopped running automatically. A throbbing knot of incredulity blossomed in her chest. _No… no…_ Stupefied, she watched the enflamed, tattered material that had once been a circus ceiling fluttering over the exact place Roderich had stood. There was a hopeless struggling movement, then a scream that seemed to pierce her soul. Erzsébet's knees buckled, and her head buzzed with such agony that she thought it might burst. The world began to shatter and crumble all around her. _Not this. Not this._

"RODERICH! RODERICH!" She was unable to prevent herself from shouting. "NOOOOO!"

Erzsébet shrieked and wailed and sobbed, reality transformed into a jumble of hysteria. After everything, _everything,_ and now this. _Roderich_. Erzsébet struggled to breathe. It was all too much and she could not do this, could not stay sane or rational under such crippling, overwhelming despair. But one tiny voice of hope whispered in her ear, refusing to be drowned out. _There might still be a chance._ As each second of agony passed, the voice grew louder. _There might still be a chance._

The fallen ceiling stretched before her, spitting embers and smoke in her face. Erzsébet did not care. She shut her eyes, tightened her clammy hands around the edge of the cloth, and heaved upwards. On the third attempt, she managed to raise part of the ceiling high enough to duck underneath.

The material smothered her immediately. Here, it was darker, hotter, stuffier than before. Her eyes screamed when she tried to open them, so she continued blindly, dragging herself on all fours. He had to be here somewhere. He had to be nearby. The oppressive heat grew with each movement. Was it the spirits of tarot, attempting to ward her off? She tried to call Roderich's name, but the words came out as a rasping choke. Finally, her hands bumped against something solid. A pair of legs? It could be. There was no time to question it any further, so Erzsébet simply grabbed and pulled.

Perhaps time was passing more quickly than usual. Perhaps it was passing more slowly. Erzsébet hauled the supposed body until the heat turned her head fuzzy, until her senses began to dull and spin. She was starting to become delirious. Sweat torrented over her skin, and a ringing sound buzzed in her ears, loud as sirens. Why wouldn't it stop? The question tore at Erzsébet's slipping mind. Why wouldn't it stop and leave her alone? She could not bear this much longer…

The air turned thicker, then suddenly thinner again. Erzsébet opened her eyes. She was no longer in the sweltering, nightmarish chaos of the Fireball Circus, but at Oktoberfest. Everything was calm, still. Roderich was dancing with her… smiling, taking her into his arms, guiding her in graceful circles. She could almost hear his voice… _"You are more than my guardian angel, Erzsébet… you are my fierce Hungarian queen with the strength of an entire army…"_ The comforting tune of _Rise Like a Phoenix_ rippled over them as they danced, kissed, fell in love.

Then Erzsébet closed her eyes once more, and her mind let go.

* * *

 _The end?_


	21. Chapter 21

_A/N You didn't really think that was the end, did you?_

* * *

"There, look!"

"What?"

"She's twitching."

"She's still unconscious, Officer."

"No, I'm telling ya, she's… _look!_ She's doing it again."

The hazy mutters washed over her like static from a radio. Erzsébet frowned. It was very annoying, really. She wanted to tell whomever it was to be quiet, but her mouth felt as if it was full of sand. Somewhere in the background she could hear the regular grating sound of a machine working. _In, out. In, out._

"I think she's coming round. Should we get someone? A nurse?"

"Give her time."

"Erzsébet? Can ya hear me?"

The voices were gradually gaining clarity. As she focused on the words, Erzsébet realised that they were talking about her. The room beyond her eyelids seemed brighter and softer than before, so she let them flutter open. The world swam into view. She was lying on a stark white bed that she did not recognise, with a thin curtain drawn around. Two chairs were positioned beside her; Officers Mathias Kohler and Lukas Bondevik watched on expectantly.

"She's awake. Wooho!" Mathias punched the air in celebration, "Told ya, Lu."

Erzsébet tried to speak, then discovered that she couldn't. Hard plastic dug into her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, obstructing half of her face. Whenever she breathed, the rasp of machinery echoed to mimic her. _In, out. In, out._ An oxygen mask. Why was she wearing an oxygen mask? She fumbled with the strap, attempting to remove it, but Mathias stopped her.

"Woah, woah, not yet. Wait for assistance, will ya?"

Within a couple of minutes, a nurse arrived to remove the mask and check her blood pressure. Erzsébet sat up gingerly while he did so, overwhelmed with a sense of groggy confusion. She wanted to know why her chest felt compressed, and why there were bandages wrapped around her forearms, but she suspected that the answers would neither be pleasant, nor simple. Finally, the nurse left her alone with the officers. Erzsébet glanced around the enclosed area. There was a monitor screen by her bed, marking out her heart rate with steady, squiggly lines. The potent scent of hospital disinfectant filled her nostrils.

"The nurses didn't want us here at first," Mathias said, "Didn't want us questioning a patient. So I told 'em we were yer friends too, then they didn't seem to mind so much."

Lukas clicked his tongue. "It is not professional to make friends with clients."

"And it's not professional to date colleagues either. But hey, who can blame ya for stepping out of line?"

"You have no idea how annoying you are, do you?"

Erzsébet ignored them and cautiously examined her arms. Her hands were uninjured—barring a cannula to supply sedative— but there was an uncomfortable searing sensation underneath the arm bandages. "Why am I here?" she asked. Her tongue felt thick and woolly.

"You've been treated for second-degree burns and minor smoke inhalation," said Lukas.

"Oh."

The officer scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I take it you don't remember anything about what happened?"

Erzsébet cast her mind back through the sea of clouded images. "There was a fire… I think."

"There was."

"I sent Feliciano into the Big Top— before the fire, that is. He was going to call you, and I think I was going to provide a distraction," Suddenly, she found herself gripped with regret. "Oh God, I should have gone instead. Why did I let him go? It was so dangerous…"

"It's cool, he's safe. Out cold, but safe," Mathias said, "Emergency services got his call in enough time to get ya outta there, though it _was_ a close-run thing."

The news should have come as a reassurance, but Erzsébet couldn't shake off the sick, nagging feeling that she had forgotten something important. Fragmented memories leapt through her mind; piercing screams, acrid lungfuls of smoke, the tent ceiling swallowing up all that lay below… she suppressed a violent shudder.

Lukas pulled a notebook from his jacket pocket and flipped it open, "On the phone, Mr Vargas described a hostage situation, and named Alfred and Matthew Bonnefoy-Kirkland as the perpetrators. Do you know anything about that?"

"They're twins. And… and _murderers,"_ Little by little, the information was returning to her, prompting a fresh wave of anger. "It wasn't Lars, it was them. They killed Feliks, Gilbert, the children. Everyone."

"Why?"

Erzsébet screwed up her eyes. Now _this_ was more difficult… something about eight years ago? "I think their parents died. An accident. They were looking for people to blame."

"And they thought they could blame _kids?"_ Mathias blurted out.

"No. No, not them…" The sedatives she'd been administered were beginning to have a soporific effect. Erzsébet wished the officers would leave her in peace. "Peter and Charlotte… found out somehow. Weren't killed for revenge, killed for silence."

Lukas noted something down. "So what happened to them? These twins?"

"Yeah!" Mathias said, "Where the fuck are they now?"

"Ran away. Started the fire, then they fled," said Erzsébet. Again she couldn't help but feel as if she was missing out a crucial detail. They'd been in the Big Top when it happened… what were they doing there…?

Mathias smiled grimly. "Then we'll need support. Let's contact headquarters straight away. The shitheads won't be allowed to get away with this."

"Eloquent as ever," Lukas made another record, then snapped his notebook closed. "Alright, thanks for your help. We might need to question you again, and you'll probably be called to an inquiry with the other witnesses, but we need to contact our colleague first."

Erzsébet started to nod, then stopped abruptly. Her heart froze. _The other witnesses. Of course._ Just like that, all missing pieces came flooding back, stunning and engulfing her. Roderich and Ludwig tied to chairs… Roderich's clammy hand slipping from her own… Roderich crumpling beneath the burning canopy… _Oh God…_

Her hands tightened around the bed sheets until her knuckles turned white. Suddenly, she felt wide awake. "The others. What happened to them? Are they okay?" she said.

There was an awful hesitation before Lukas responded, "Ludwig Beilschmidt is also being treated here, in the same room as Feliciano Vargas. He's conscious, but in too much shock to talk."

"And Roderich?" Erzsébet asked. She was already dreading the answer. "Where's Roderich Edelstein?"

Lukas and Mathias exchanged glances. Their expressions were guilty, pitying, and said more than any words could. Panic slapped Erzsébet around the face, leaving her breathless. Her insides were rapidly turning to lead. _No…_

"What happened to him?" Her voice was so shrill she barely recognised it, "Tell me! Tell me he isn't… isn't…"

"Calm yerself, he's still alive," Mathias said quickly, "It's just he's… ahhh…"

"He's _what?"_ demanded Erzsébet. The feeling in her legs was gradually returning, but she remained so apprehensive that everything felt dizzy. There was something they were avoiding telling her. If Roderich wasn't dead, what was it?

"The damage that Mr Edelstein suffered was considerably worse than everyone else's," said Lukas, "He's being treated for smoke inhalation and severe burns in a separate, more intensive ward. It's a miracle that he's even alive."

Erzsébet relaxed her hands and took a deep, stabilising breath. She glanced between the heart monitor, the sedative drip, and the hideous medical gown tied around to her body, blinking back tears. God, how she hated hospitals.

"Let me see him." she said.

…

The doctor led the way to the Intensive Care Unit, striding down corridors with sickly yellow wallpaper and forgettable landscape paintings. Wringing her hands impatiently, Erzsébet walked beside her. Her fingers rubbed against the piece of cotton wool taped over where her cannula had been. The nurses had forced her to wait half an hour for her sedative drip to run through before she could visit Roderich. Every second had been torture.

"May I ask how you and the patient are acquainted?" the doctor asked, "Is he a relative, perhaps?"

Erzsébet stuttered on her reply. "He's…" _He's a haughty, aristocratic snob. He's my whole world._ "He's a friend."

"And the two of you are close, are you?"

"Yes."

"I see…" Her tone was somehow too sympathetic, as if she had guessed the meaning behind Erzsébet's words.

They came to a stop by a soap dispenser attached to a vast set of double doors. Erzsébet waited for the doctor to sanitise her hands, and then did the same. Her body felt weary from the medication, but anxiousness kept her mind fully alert.

"This will be quite a shock for you," the doctor said, pushing the door open, "Please try to remain calm if you can."

Suppressing her fear, Erzsébet nodded, and followed her into the unit. Immediately she flinched as her eardrums were assaulted by the frightening sound of beeps and alarms. Two rows of beds stretched down the bay, some enclosed with curtains, others not. Erzsébet tried to keep her eyes away from the groaning patients and the nurses crowding around them, affixing wires and tubes to their bodies. The strong chemical smell was even more unpleasant than before.

"Roderich Edelstein is on Bed Number Eight. I'll leave you alone with him," said the doctor, "And… I truly am sorry, Miss."

Erzsébet barely heard the condolence. Already she was rushing down the aisle, pulse thrumming in her ears. _Bed Number Eight… Bed Number Eight…_ The stressful environment was not doing anything to help her nerves. Arriving at the designated number, she tore the curtain back straight away. Then she recoiled with a gasp.

Roderich lay unconscious on the mattress, his features pale, a ventilation tube over his mouth, and cables emerging from underneath the gown covering his torso. One side of his face was undamaged. The other was not. Horrific, bumpy red scars crept over his skin, starting at the top of his left forehead and spreading all the way down. The result was a mass of grotesque, wounded tissue— so thick and so prominent that it almost looked like an engraving.

Erzsébet felt pain lance through her chest. Whatever she had been expecting, it wasn't this. She didn't know how to react. For a while, she stood immobilised until she could hardly bear waiting and watching and _feeling_ for a moment longer. The awful, awful scarring seemed to leer back, taunting her.

An unknown voice spoke from behind; probably one of the nurses, "There are further burns on his chest and the lower half of his legs. All third-degree."

Erzsébet could not tear her eyes away from Roderich. She fought to find her voice. "They're not going to heal, are they?"

"No. I'm afraid that he'll have these scars for the rest of his life."

The revelation should have been shocking. Instead, Erzsébet merely felt numb. "Is… is he going to live?" she managed to breathe.

"His condition is stable enough," said the nurse, "Although he's lucky to be with us. He must have a powerful guardian angel out there."

A prickling sensation rose up Erzsébet's throat and stung her eyes. _Not powerful enough._ After all, could it be partly due to _her_ that Roderich was so badly injured? Wasn't she the one who had lost control, prompting Alfred and Matthew to snap? Wasn't she the one who had accidently abandoned Roderich when he most needed her? The thought heaved inside her; a physical ache. All she had wanted to do was protect him… had she failed?

A second voice sounded, calm and quiet, "Do you need a moment outside?"

She shook her head. "Just… give me some time with him."

Once she was sure the nurses had gone to attend to another patient, Erzsébet moved closer to Roderich's bed, and drew the curtain around. There were no chairs, so she knelt down beside him, telling herself that this was not as scary as it looked. Roderich's chest rose and fell evenly, and the unfriendly monitors around him were displaying consistent figures. He even looked peaceful in his sleep. Careful not to brush the burns, she lifted a quivering hand to stroke his hair. His dark, gorgeous locks fell through her fingers like velvet, bringing another pang of emotion. She had forgotten how reassuring it felt to touch him like this. How comfortable and wonderful and _right,_ even in the midst of this shock.

Erzsébet continued fondling Roderich's hair in reverent silence. It was difficult to ignore the scars, but the longer she stared at them, the more she came to discover that they didn't bother her as much as she had expected. They were highly disturbing, but Roderich possessed an innate elegance that shone through all blemishes. He was still so beautiful— with his slender form and his eyes like violets— still so unbearably handsome. Besides, why should it matter what Roderich looked like? He was going to live. She had almost lost him, but he was going to live. In comparison to that miraculous, striking fact, why should _anything_ matter? All of a sudden, Erzsébet was struck with the impulse to connect to him in any way she could.

"Hello, Roderich," she said softly. Her voice was predictably choked. "I know you can't hear me, but… I want to tell you a few things while I can."

The regular chime of hospital equipment was her only response. Erzsébet carefully lay her other hand on Roderich's damaged chest and carried on, "I… I'm sorry I let go of your hand. It w—was stupid and thoughtless and I'll never regret anything more. I'm sorry that you're now in so much pain… be—because of me…" She faltered slightly, pausing to swallow back her heartache. Logically, she knew she was being silly. She knew that what had happened was not her fault, and that there was no way Roderich would ever blame her. Yet it still felt better to have said it.

"I also want you to know that it's all over— really over, this time," she continued, "We did it. Feliks and Gilbert would…well, I'm sure they'd be proud. It also means that we're not in danger any more. Everyone's safe." A fierce shudder ran through her body, intense as electricity.

"There's something else you should know too. Your scars…" She shook her head, struggling to express exactly what she felt. "They might bother you, but they don't bother me, _drágám._ They'll just take some getting used to, that's all. I still think you're gorgeous. I still desire you with every inch of my being. I still want your lips on mine, and your body against my skin, and…" she trailed off, cheeks reddening. Shit… she'd gone a bit too far there. Erzsébet was embarrassed to discover that she was actually slightly aroused.

"Well… you, um, get the idea with that," she said, giggling shakily, and praying that there weren't any nurses nearby. Thankfully the monitors were probably blaring loudly enough to drown out her murmurs. Feeling cramp beginning to settle in her legs, Erzsébet shifted her position until her chin was almost resting on the crisp hospital bedcovers. Then, she took Roderich's limp hand in her own.

"One other thing. I want you to know that I've been thinking about what Vash told me. That you don't care about anyone. That you'd end up… breaking my heart. I've had a lot of time to consider his words." She squeezed Roderich's hand, and lowered her voice to an ardent whisper. "And I don't believe them. How could I? You may seem inconsiderate, but when you're with me, you're such a gentleman. You may seem superior, but when you're with me, you're so insecure. You came into my life at the darkest possible moment, and yet… y—you managed to give me so much hope."

Erzsébet finally came to a stop, feeling as though a hand was squeezing her insides. This was it. She had officially rejected all warnings, all excuses. She had finally given in to honesty. And it had left her positively aching with longing all over. Unable to control herself, she buried her head into Roderich's neck. Her damp eyelashes fluttered against his bare skin, and when she breathed, the soothing, irresistible scent of Roderich Edelstein overpowered her. Erzsébet sighed deeply, contentedly. She had never felt a stronger sense of belonging than now.

"So I guess what I've been trying to say, Roderich, what I've really been trying to say," Her lips quivered against his collarbone, barely a whisper. "Is that if you truly want me, I'm yours."

* * *

 _To be continued soon..._

* * *

 _Surprise! Turns out this story isn't quite over after all. Sorry for attempting to trick you all, although judging by some of the comments, a lot of you didn't really believe it anyway. Apologies too for keeping you in_ _suspense for longer than usual._

 _Obviously the main plotline in the story is more-or-less over now, but there'll be a few more chapters just to tie up some loose ends and such._

 _After last chapter, I've been flooded with wonderful reviews and messages of support and appreciation. Readers, you never fail to stun me with these. Once again, thank you all so, so much._


	22. Comptine d'une Autre Été

The Audi estate car careered down another twisted road. While Alfred drove, Matthew sat beside him in the passenger seat. It wasn't their car, of course— just something they'd broken into from a local driveway. The smell of leather and cloying air freshener assaulted Matthew's nostrils as he watched the fields fly past. He didn't have the faintest idea where they were anymore. Apparently they had passed the Austrian border a couple of hours ago, but now these country roads and remote villages were growing increasingly unfamiliar, especially as the afternoon wore on into dusk. Alfred had said that it would be easier for them to disappear in Eastern Europe, so Hungary would probably be the next destination. The thought was not a comforting one.

Austria and then Hungary. It made Matthew remember Roderich and Erzsébet back at the circus, and an odd queasy feeling lurched inside him. Roderich would be dead by now, along with Feliciano. As for Erzsébet… who even knew? Had she taken their advice to stay put, or had she burned alongside her friends in a foolish attempt to save them? The possibilities were troubling to consider, and Matthew could not fathom why. He got what he wanted hadn't he? There still remained that bright spot of triumph from the whole fiasco; Ludwig had perished too. But as the death toll increased with their fumbles, sweet revenge seemed to carry such a bitter aftertaste.

"Alfred?" Matthew said quietly. It was the first time either of them had spoken in hours.

"Hmmm?"

"We… we did do the right thing, didn't we?"

Alfred took his eyes off the road to stare incredulously at his brother. "The hell are you talkin' about, bro? _'Course_ we did the right thing!"

"And Dad and Papa?" Matthew continued, "They'd be proud of us, right?"

"Damn right they would," said Alfred. He returned his attention to driving, accelerating with wild, jerky inconsistency. Matthew settled back and gazed out the window. His sense of unease was even greater than before. But he had to believe in their judgement— he had to believe that what they had done was worth it. He had to simply because the alternative was a thousand times worse to consider.

Matthew didn't know how many minutes or hours had passed when he first heard the noise. It started as a vague trill in the distance, but grew louder and louder, blaring as it approached. Matthew caught a flash of electric blue light in the wing mirror, and his heart turned cold.

"What the fuck is that?" Alfred asked, although the tremble in his voice suggested he already knew.

Matthew swallowed hard. "It's a siren," he said, "They're after us, Alfred."

Alfred slammed his foot on the accelerator. The car hurtled forwards, shooting down the lane like a bullet out of control. Matthew did not know what to do. Terror thrummed in his ears, fiercer than anything he'd ever felt before, and a burning sweat broke out over his skin. The sirens were screaming and screaming— now paralysingly loud. The blue lights whirred constantly in his eyes. Matthew wanted to shout, wanted to bury his face in his arms, wanted to cry and yell until everything faded into oblivion. But he had no choice but to stay where he was. He could only sit still like a prisoner, gripped with panic and regret while the car streaked on.

Alfred turned sharply into another road. There was some kind of warning sign at the entrance but they were going to fast for Matthew to read it. He was shaking now, hard and uncontrollably, feeling hot and sick and wrong all over. The sheer velocity seemed to constrict around his skull. He couldn't speak, he couldn't think; he could barely even breathe. Silently, he turned to his brother. He needed Alfred to say something, to reassure him, even if such reassurance was futile. But then he saw the white and shocked look on Alfred's face, and he knew that something was wrong. He followed Alfred's gaze and did a double take. Several metres ahead, a tree had fallen into the road, blocking their path completely. And they were heading straight for it.

"BREAK!" screamed Matthew.

Alfred broke violently, and they skidded to a halt. Matthew's body jolted under the force and his heart leapt into his mouth, but miraculously the car stopped before the anticipated collision. For a moment there was only silence. The air was calm, still, and Matthew could only feel relief as he breathed in and out shakily. Then the sound of the sirens resumed once again. A car engine stuttered behind them, followed by the slamming of a door.

" _Shit…"_ Alfred whispered. His tone shocked Matthew. He had heard fear in Alfred's voice before, but never like this. Never before had he sounded as lost or as devastated as he did now. He looked at Matthew, tears gathering in his eyes. "I'm so sorry, bro. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

And suddenly, Matthew realised that it didn't matter anymore. A bizarre sense of acceptance washed over him, beyond all reason or instinct. As the first of Alfred's tears fell, he reached out and brushed it away with his thumb. _"Shhh,_ it's okay. We can do this," he said, "Let's go out and face 'em, eh? For Dad and for Papa."

Fat tears continued to pour down Alfred's face, but he sniffled them back and rubbed his eyes. "Yeah. For Dad and for Papa."

Matthew waited until his brother was fully composed before unclipping his seatbelt. The strap had sliced into his neck, but he barely noticed the pain. His body felt almost immaterial, and his mind had cleared of all emotion. He knew that nothing more could be done now. They had reached the end of the road.

A policewoman was waiting for them as they exited the car. Matthew walked up to her slowly, one arm around his brother's trembling shoulders. Immediately she started signalling to her colleagues, and they approached with truncheons and handcuffs at the ready. One of them forced Matthew and Alfred apart and clamped Matthew's hands roughly behind his back. Alfred yelled profanities, but Matthew's only thought was that the officer stank of body odour. He looked up calmly, and met the leading policewoman's stern blue eyes.

"Matthew an' Alfred Bonnefoy-Kirkland," she said, "We're puttin' y' both under arrest!"

…

Once upon a time, there was a man named Francis Bonnefoy who fell in love with his worst enemy. The worst enemy in question being Arthur Kirkland— Englishman, amateur circus magician, rival performer and all-round stubborn little arsehole. After an hour of knowing him, Francis was sure that he was the most despicable man he'd ever met. After a year, he knew he never wanted to kiss anyone's lips but Arthur's ever again. They were just _that_ kind of couple; the kind that could use the terms 'I love you' and 'I hate you' interchangeably. The kind that could go from screaming profanities at each other to fucking passionately in the space of five minutes.

Not that they didn't have their moments of sweet romance. Indeed, Francis made no secret of the fact that love was the only true beauty in his eyes and the only thing he lived for. And he often liked to prove it, sending Arthur letters and tokens of affection, letting him sample the finest French wine while they watched the sunset, asking passers-by to take photographs of them hugging in cornfields… that sort of thing. Of course, Arthur normally ruined it by pushing him aside and muttering something about 'sentimental frogs' or 'bloody perverted Frenchmen'. But it didn't matter because Francis still loved his _petit lapin_ _._ He loved him more than anything else in the world.

Perhaps they were doomed from the start.

Once upon a time, there were two men who loved each other very much (however reluctant one of them might be to show it) and wanted to raise a family. The adoption process was long and arduous, but worth every second when the four-year-old twin boys from North America finally made their lives complete. They were called Alfred and Matthew, and didn't seem to have any other names. Their new guardians were in atypical agreement that this had to change as soon as possible. Sure enough, the boys were known as Alfred Francis and Matthew Arthur Bonnefoy-Kirkland a month later. (It took a month simply because that was how long the argument over the surname order lasted. But Francis got his way in the end. Francis usually got his way.)

So for the next seven years, Francis and Arthur became parents. Parents to, in Arthur's words, two little rascals who giggled whenever Daddy burnt the sausages and begged for Papa to sing them French lullabies and came crying to both of them when they were scared. Francis developed a predictable tendency of spoiling his sons at every opportunity— with sweets, with toys, with outings to the funfair— which Arthur pretended to disapprove of but did nothing to discourage. Especially not since he himself made both of the boys wonderful presents by hand for their tenth birthday: a toy fort for Alfred and an embroidered white teddy bear for Matthew. So for seven years, the Bonnefoy-Kirkland children couldn't have been happier. For seven years, the Bonnefoy-Kirkland parents were the proudest in existence.

But all good things have to come to an end.

Once upon a time, a succession of minor accidentals gave rise to a crescendo with major and devastating consequences. During the inquest, nobody could be quite sure what could be counted as the greatest cause of the catastrophe. Was it the flammable tent material? Was it the then-ringmaster who failed to take safety measures? Or was it the three drag queen upstarts who'd stupidly left a grill unattended? The judge decided on the former, the newspapers decided on the latter but either way, the result was still the same. The Big Top had caught alight and the man who was halfway through his act (Englishman, renowned circus magician, husband to a rival performer and all-round devoted family-man) lost his life as a result.

Nothing that any inquest concluded could ever override this stark fact, especially not for Francis Bonnefoy. When a man lives for love and loses it, what is there to stay for any more? Perhaps if he'd had a councillor other than cheap wine and the melancholy of his own thoughts, he might have opened his eyes to an answer. He might gradually have understood that there are many other forms of love in the world, with scarcely anything more beautiful than the bond between a parent and their children. But as it was, his body was discovered a week after the inquest, hanging from the ceiling of the dressing room in which he and Arthur had shared their first kiss. Once upon another time.

As for Alfred and Matthew, they were shipped straight back to their orphanage in America. Never again were they adopted. Never again did they forget what befell them.

Once upon a time, there were two boys who had gone from having the most perfect family imaginable to losing everything within the space of a fortnight, and looked for someone to blame. For someone to take the blunt that they couldn't bear. Neither of them knew much about their parents' jobs in Munich. (It had been embarrassing enough at school to be the foreign twins with two _Vatis_ without being the foreign twins with two _Vatis_ who worked in the circus too). In fact, it was five years later— when they were browsing the orphanage computer, both on the cusp of adulthood— that they discovered the newspaper articles at all. The newspaper articles which were vague and seemed to focus more on the circus' reputation, but all agreed that the trio of unnamed performers who made up 'The Three Bust-keteers' could be responsible for the accident.

By this point, both of them had wallowed long enough in self-pity to know what they wanted to do. Alfred's dabbling in petty street crime had given him a full education in the workings of guns. Matthew's shyness (or 'invisibility' as his brother liked to call it) meant that he could slip by unnoticed by almost everyone. And both were so alike that not even the orphanage workers could tell them apart sometimes. The solution was obvious.

A year later, the two of them travelled back to Munich and Alfred applied for a job at the Fireball Circus with one goal in mind. To find the names of the three performers who had snatched their childhood away like a lollipop from a baby's hands. To achieve vengeance; vengeance in the image and place of their parents. _In loco parentis_ _._

But that is a story for another time.

…

 _The Fireball Circus bustled with business. People milled around in the foyer, buying sausages and hot drinks and candyfloss. Children grouped together playing Nintendogs; adults poured over the programme and discussed which performances sounded the most exciting. When the Big Top opened, paid ushers lead the circus-goers to their seats. There they waited in restless anticipation, occasionally snapping pictures on digital cameras. Quite the extravaganza had been promised tonight._ A blazing success… utterly unmissable entertainment… _or so the advertisements claimed, at least. It was a spectacle they had come for, and a spectacle they would most certainly receive._

 _Ludwig Beilschmidt stood outside in the cold, dark throes of the night. The wind was already picking up, sweeping against his clothes. As he gazed up at the tent, it suddenly occurred to him that this was not the modern and sophisticated Big Top he had come to know. Instead, it was the gaudy one from those long-ago days in his childhood, complete with its neon paint and cartoon flames. Ludwig took a faltering breath and stared down through thirteen-year-old eyes at his thirteen-year-old shoes. Was this a dream? He couldn't tell. It felt both real and unreal at once— the colours too bright, the details too hazy, but the sense of inevitability shockingly vivid._

 _His brother Gilbert stood beside him; and he was not a corpse, but a man. A handsome, frustrating, joyful young man who laughed loud and smiled so widely that the corners of his eyes crinkled. Seeing him like this made Ludwig ache. This was last vestige of his brother, and it was just another part of his warped, bitter memory. And Gilbert did not know it… he could never know it… he could never know that it was already too late. There was another figure here too. This one was not so clear, but Ludwig recognised the old dress and the familiar way he tossed his hair. He could hear the_ 'like's _and the_ 'totally's _peppering the man's conversation, each one increasing his own internal grief. Here was another bright, young life about to be ruined. Here was another friend he could not save._

 _A fizzling sound caught his attention gradually, low and foreboding in his ear. Ludwig wheeled around in trepidation… and there it was. The grill had manifested before him— that terrible, terrible grill which haunted him to this day. Its flames were dwindling, their food had long finished cooking, but the embers still smouldered on. Ludwig glanced around for the others, but they had vanished. Everything else faded from existence until only he and the grill were left, standing together on the plane of oblivion. As he drew in closer, the fires spat at him and the fierce crackling transformed into words._ "It's all your fault," _they sang,_ "It's all your fault!" _Shame burned through Ludwig's veins. They were right, of course. He had not put out the embers. Gilbert and Feliks had simply forgotten, but he had known that the grill was active, and he had failed to do anything about it. He had been too young to really know how, but what kind of excuse was that? And even now, all these years later, he still could not confront this fear. A heavy lump caught in his throat as the guilt and panic flooded him. Perhaps this was not a dream after all. Perhaps this was purgatory. Perhaps it was his fate that he should relive the most torturous moments of his life again and again._

 _As the heat intensified, Ludwig felt his knees buckle. He was crying before he knew it— hot, thick tears that refused to stop falling. These visions were agony beyond anything he had known, but he deserved them. He would always deserve them. The flames leapt up like phantoms, spread their wings, approached him with open arms. And Ludwig knew then that he had no choice. He simply crawled forwards, and gave himself up to their harsh embrace…_

"Ludwig! Ludwig!"

Ludwig's eyes shot open immediately. His heart was racing, his chest was drenched in sweat, and his breaths came out as ragged pants. He fumbled confusedly in the darkness and felt the reassuring weight of Feliciano lying beside him in their bed.

"You were moaning," Feliciano said. He wiggled his hands through Ludwig's hair, stroking it like an animal. "Are you okay? You weren't having horrible nightmares again, were you?"

Ludwig laughed weakly and wiped his forehead. His body still felt so fragile, but he knew he was just being silly. Dreams were only dreams, after all. There was nothing he could do to alter the past, no matter how much he might yearn for it. With a contended sigh, he settled back into Feliciano's arms.

"No, _Liebling,"_ he said, "Everything is alright now. I promise."

In all these years, the embers had never really died for Ludwig.

* * *

 _To be continued next week..._

* * *

 _The chapter title is a reference to the piano piece of the same name by Yann Tierson, which features in the film Am_ é _lie. It's definitely theme music for the middle section in this chapter._

 _Now is probably also a good time to apologise to anyone who really hates FrUK. I'd have liked to mention all the featured pairings at the start of the story, but obviously I couldn't due to the secretive nature of everything._

 _Once again, the lovely comments and support from all of my readers have blown me away. I know I say this a lot, but thank you all so much. I can assure you that I read and re-read every review I get and that they never fail to brighten my day._


	23. Chapter 23

Roderich could not bring himself to use mirrors anymore.

Before the accident, they constituted an integral part of his lengthy morning routine. But now he felt ashamed whenever a reflective surface came into view. Now he felt repulsed whenever he caught so much of a glimpse of his face. He used to consider his appearance terribly plain, unsophisticated, unattractive. He used to wish that he looked more striking. If this was nature's means of granting his wish, then… well, the irony was cruel.

Hence why he was even eschewing mirrors today while he dressed in the pale light of Ludwig's tent. It was imperative that he looked as distinguished as possible, but he could only trust that his brushed hair had settled into elegant waves, and that his jabot was tied correctly. Not that his preparation mattered especially. Not that it made any difference whatsoever. Roderich did not need to check his appearance to know that he looked repulsive.

The weather was typical of late October; cold and bracing, with a canopy of thick cloud. Yet the morning blossomed into a surprisingly calm and silent one as Roderich walked over the circus grounds. And how very irritating it was too. Roderich wanted to scream at the sky, force the clouds to break, cause a tempest of literary proportions. It was not fair for this infuriating stillness to exist on the day that was going to shatter his heart. But Roderich could do nothing aside from continuing to walk— a sick and apprehensive dread rolling in his stomach. He tried to think of neutral matters, of cake and Vienna and symphonies. Naturally, it did not work. His stubborn mind always insisted upon thinking of the same thing again and again. _Erzsébet._ Kind, brash, wild, lovely Erzsébet, whom Roderich yearned for so badly, but could never hope to have.

He had never felt like this before. Never felt such an overpowering, frightening _need_ for a single person. Never, that was, until he had stumbled into the Fireball Circus meeting and set his eyes upon Héderváry Erzsébet. Roderich remembered how confusing it had been— watching her dancing green eyes and her wonky smile, and feeling that curious excitement flutter through his veins. Initially he had tried to dismiss it as nothing more than infatuation. He was a young virtuoso from a prestigious family; his parents would not approve such strong emotions for a circus fortune teller. But as the weeks progressed, he had been forced to shelve his prejudices as he realised that Erzsébet was not only beautiful, but also caring and brave, spirited and intelligent, gentle and endlessly fascinating. And Roderich could not resist her. How could he, when she was the only person capable of making him smile? Erzsébet had become his sole comfort in the midst of all the cruelty and sorrow, and Roderich was painfully, embarrassingly smitten.

There was a time when he had dared to hope that he might have a chance to court her… but that time had passed now. His childish little fantasy blasted into oblivion the moment he woke up in Intensive Care and found his bland face transformed into a distorted monstrosity. It was a staggering development, and nearly impossible to accept, but accepted it Roderich had. It did not take him long to reach a decision about what to do next. He knew that he could not endure the bittersweet paradox of being close to Erzsébet, still with his desires, but always having to keep her at arm's length. No, he needed to cut off all ties, move far away, begin again.

Roderich convinced himself that his departure would not hurt Erzsébet as much as it was going to hurt him. He was perceptive enough about matters of the heart to suspect that she admired him, and maybe even had some level of attraction towards him, albeit unfathomable. But he doubted her affections went any deeper that that. Out of the two kisses they had shared, one had been a reckless, drunken scramble, and the other her means of acquiring some much-needed reassurance. Nothing more. Besides, if Erzsébet had… _cared_ for him previously, then she most certainly would not now. He would be doing her a favour by removing his hideous visage from her sight.

Yet if there was one thing Roderich had learnt from the debacle with Vash, it was that he did at least owe Erzsébet an explanation first. Which is why he ceased his morning walk outside Erzsébet's tent, having managed to avoid getting lost even once. He glanced over the dome, the chalkboard promoting her act, the decorative red, white and green swirls. His heart turned uncomfortably. Why should these familiar sights provoke such an unfamiliar sense of guilt and foreboding? Roderich shook away the feeling, telling himself that what he was about to do was noble and proper, instead of cowardly as he secretly suspected. Then he drew back the tent flap, and stepped inside.

Erzsébet sat at her oak table, holding a large volume in one hand and fiddling with her ornamental flower with the other. She glanced up from her book as he entered. The brightness of her smile cut through him like a knife.

"Roderich! It's wonderful to see you." She bounced up from her chair, lively and radiant and heartbreaking. "Hold on, I'll go and make some herbal tea."

"Erzsébet, wait…" Roderich said. Erzsébet stopped, tilted her head, raised her eyebrows questioningly. Three, achingly familiar movements. Everything was starting to become familiar where Erzsébet was concerned and, God, Roderich could not bear it. He summoned all of his inner resolve, and spoke. "I have come to bid you farewell."

There was a pause that seemed to last about an hour. Then Erzsébet giggled uncertainly. "What do you mean?"

Roderich risked a glance at her expression. Confusion. Confusion with a hint of panic. Fighting through the crushing regret in his chest, he continued, "You must have realised that the Fireball Circus is finished. It cannot possibly hope to recover after this. So I have been in contact with my former educational supervisor, and…" Roderich swallowed to ensure that his voice remained level. Oh why did this have to be so very difficult? "And I have been welcomed back onto my music course."

His words settled between them, thick and uneasy. Another awkward strain arose.

"So you're leaving?" Erzsébet asked, "For Vienna?"

Roderich nodded. He could not bring himself to look at Erzsébet, so he stared past her to a fat burning candle sitting on top of a cabinet. The tiny flame leered back, taunting and perturbing. The left side of Roderich's face seemed to sting more intensely.

"When?" said Erzsébet.

"I anticipate that it will be fairly soon," Roderich said. He wondered whether his tone was indifferent enough to be convincing. Just to be sure, he added a harsh afterthought that sliced open his insides, "Understand that I shall be travelling entirely alone."

Erzsébet shook her head, her face rapidly draining of colour. She looked completely lost. "But I don't…" Suddenly, her eyes widened and she let out a breath of almost scornful comprehension, " _Ahhh,_ I see _._ Roderich, sit down."

"Excuse me?" Roderich struggled not to splutter. This was not a reaction that he had envisioned, and neither was he used to being given orders.

For some unknown reason, Erzsébet knelt down beside a box and began rummaging inside, talking rapidly, "You're right, the Fireball Circus is finished. I'll have to start putting discounts on my rates. _A-ha,"_ She extracted a rectangular case that looked suspiciously like a deck of cards, "I used to charge two Euros for a tarot reading, now it's free. Sit down."

Roderich gaped at her, utterly dumbfounded. He had expected anger, possibly even tears, but _tarot cards?_ How absolutely absurd! For a split second he wondered whether this was all a joke, but it couldn't be. There was a fiery command in Erzsébet's eyes which sent shivers over his skin. Roderich wasn't sure if he could refuse… and he wasn't sure he wanted to either. Sighing deeply to mask the swell of joy inside, he pulled out a chair and sat opposite her.

"Very well, then. Indulge your foolish superstitions if you must."

Erzsébet shot him a dangerous glare, but it was playful under the surface. Roderich drummed his fingers on the table, frustrated by his quickening pulse. His gaze fixed determinedly on the oak surface whilst Erzsébet shuffled the cards. He had to admit it— he was actually feeling rather excited at the prospect of having his fortune read. As Erzsébet lifted the deck to her lips, an involuntary thrill ran down his spine.

"Tell me, my ancestors," she muttered, in a theatrical yet eerily enchanting voice, "What lies in the future of Roderich Edelstein?"

She placed the deck face-down on the table, plucked out a few cards, and arranged them in a circle. With the wafting scent of incense and the terrible, winking candles, the process felt akin to some satanic ritual. Roderich could not fathom why he was quite so enthralled, but deep down he knew the answer. This was all a part of Erzsébet's singular charm.

Erzsébet flipped over the first two cards with searching fingers, "I see the _Galamboc_ fortress, where my forefathers fought the Ottomans many centuries ago. I see the castle of _Sárospatak,_ from the _Bodrog_ river they symbolise forthcoming travel."

Roderich examined the cards with a sceptical glance. They both depicted castles, but one had bells drawn in the corner while the other featured hearts. "I see your ancestors and I are in agreement then," he said sardonically.

"Hush, mortal! Heed the next revelation carefully," Erzsébet turned over a third card. "I see _Szilágyi Erzsébet,_ my second namesake; Queen Mother of Hungary in the 15th Century. I hear her speak to me, and she speaks of good luck to come in your life. She speaks of improvement for the better."

Roderich felt a pang of self-pity, and managed not to roll his eyes with difficulty. How could anything in his life possibly improve now? And yet… he could not help being curious. "Does she specify what this improvement might be?" he asked, attempting not to sound too interested.

Erzsébet winked, still speaking in that infuriating witchy accent, "Ah, she has left that for us to decipher. Such is the way of the spirits, you see."

"How very convenient."

Brushing off his remark, Erzsébet traced her finger and thumb gently over another card with feigned mysticism. Then she picked it up, "Next, I see Countess _Zrínyi Ilona,_ a heroine who fought against autocratic Habsburg rule. She whispers to me… what does she whisper?"

"She is probably advising you not to spend so much time with an Austrian," said Roderich.

"No. It is not me she whispers of, but you," Erzsébet raised her eyes to meet his in a penetrative gaze. "She whispers that your mind is on your beloved. That all your thoughts, all your actions are for _one person alone."_

Roderich very nearly started. The prediction was more accurate than he cared to admit, and the way Erzsébet's voice purred as she said it made his breath come faster. It was only by steadying himself that he was able to remember that she could not read his mind. Fortune Tellers had a habit of inventing everything as they went along. Roderich folded his arms. "I'm afraid I have had enough. This is becoming increasingly ridiculous," he said.

If anything, this made Erzsébet smile even more gleefully. "Calm your aristocratic sensibilities for a minute, _drágám._ Remember that we still have one card to go," She held it up in the very tips of her fingers, twisting it so that Roderich could only see the blank side. "The last card is always the most important in tarot."

"Is that so?"

"Why, of course. The others reveal parts of the story, but only the last card shows the conclusion," said Erzsébet, "Don't you want to know that conclusion, Roderich? Don't you want to know what it says?"

Roderich did, of course he did. The enticing, albeit rather manipulative way in which Erzsébet had built this up strongly implied that she had a trick up her sleeve. And as much as he knew this could only end badly, Roderich was simply aching to know what that was. So he straightened his posture, tried to behave as if he merely wished to get this over with, and said, "Show me."

Erzsébet flipped the card over to let Roderich see the reverse side. It was an Ace. The Ace of Bells. A moment later, Erzsébet's muttering began:

"I see _Dózsa György;_ a soldier of fortune, a criminal, a martyr. He foretells the greatest future of them all," She left a long pause for dramatic effect. "Soon, you will have a partner. A _romantic_ partner. Soon, you will have a new relationship, and the chance for love."

The drifting smoke from the incense sticks and candles had caused the air to become heavy. Roderich's glasses were beginning to slip down his nose. It would be unseemly not to adjust them, but he did not want to move. His heart was beating so rapidly that he thought it might split his chest open. Whatever Erzsébet was doing was terribly, terribly cruel, but Roderich wanted to melt into this moment. He wanted to make it last forever. More than anything, he wanted to believe in it. But he knew that would not change reality, so he finally forced himself to speak.

"Well, if—if that is all, I think I shall depart now," Roderich stood up with such haste that he knocked the chair over. Each dreadful gesture of formality threatened to choke him. "My thanks for the tarot reading, it was most, er, _enlightening._ And I wish you all the best for your future businesses endeavours. I bid you farewell."

"Why are you doing this, Roderich?"

Erzsébet's question came from nowhere and struck Roderich squarely. She knew. She knew what he was denying himself. Roderich's cheeks burned, and his legs grew suddenly weak as shame drew the blood away. _Remember stoicism,_ a stern inner voice reminded him, _remember propriety._ "I—I am afraid I do not understand what you mean."

"You understand exactly what I mean. You're not hiding it very well— I _know_ you want me too," Erzsébet bit her lip, looking doubtful all of a sudden. "Is it because I'm just a fortune teller? Is that it?"

"No!" Roderich shouted without thinking, and only realised his mistake once the outburst was over. Good _Lord,_ that had been about as telling as a confession! Roderich rested both hands on the table, angry and humiliated and confused. "I… have not cared about your profession for a long time," he said faintly.

"Then _what?"_ Erzsébet asked.

Roderich opened his mouth, but closed it again a second later. How had this situation managed to go so horribly awry? All the insecurities that he feared admitting were rising dangerously close to the surface. Roderich breathed in gulps of exotic air, willed himself to stop shaking, and thought to hell with it all.

"You deserve someone handsome."

"Oh Roderich…" Erzsébet's eyes glistened with tears, but her smile was kind, sad and understanding, as if she'd guessed the reason all along. Slowly, she lifted a hand to cup his undamaged cheek. "You _are_ handsome. You're the most handsome man I've ever known."

Her light touch felt exhilarating, sending a hot flush over Roderich's skin. His breath stilled. He longed for Erzsébet to keep touching him, and longed equally to touch her back. But could she really mean this? Timid hope sparked in his chest, but it was a dying movement. Even if Erzsébet thought she meant what she said, she was surely deluded. She'd forget all about him the moment another eligible young man crossed her path. It took all of Roderich's strength to pull away from her, and turn his back.

"I'm truly sorry, Erzsébet. I… I must go."

Although Roderich walked in a rush, each step felt like a mile. His composure began to crumble from within. _You fool._ He struggled to keep his footing as the emptiness consumed him; threatened to tear him apart. _You irrational, lovesick fool._ God, he could barely breathe for the ache inside his chest. He kept on walking all the same. Just as he had reached the tent flap, he heard Erzsébet's voice cutting through the space between them:

"Gilbert was twenty-five," she said.

The statement was so bizarre that Roderich actually stopped and turned around. "I'm sorry?"

"Feliks was twenty-four," Erzsébet continued, "Peter and Charlotte… God, they must have been about nine. Think of all the things they might have wanted to do in their lives, Roderich."

Roderich bowed his head. "Indeed, it is a tragedy, but this is not remotely relevant to—"

"Relevant? Of course it's relevant!" She had started shouting, turning quickly hysterical. _"They_ can't do the things they might have wanted because they're dead! But you're not dead, are you Roderich Edelstein? And if you're going to let a fucking _scar_ get in the way of your desires, then you're taking your life for granted."

Roderich did not answer. Instead, he stared at Erzsébet until he felt his throat constrict, and the cold thump of _memento mori_ chill his bones. Never before had criticism felt like an epiphany. He was surprised by how humbling the experience was. Suddenly, a burn seemed of very little worth or consequence. Suddenly, he couldn't believe it had taken him this long to realise how ridiculous his behaviour was. Suddenly…

Suddenly he was striding towards Erzsébet with only one thought on his mind. The world swayed, and then narrowed rapidly until all became contained within the dark, hot hush of the tent. When they met in the centre, Erzsébet practically fell onto his body, and Roderich grasped her hips so frantically that she gasped. Their heads tilted in unison, and instinctively, urgently, Roderich kissed her. All dignity forgotten, he kissed her. It wasn't perfection as he had fantasised, but it was so much more than that. It was real. Real, raw; Erzsébet's hungry lips moving with his, her quickening breath, her chest pressed against him, her feel, her smell, _her._ And the kiss was deepening so fast, and the jolts of need were becoming sharper, and his pulse accelerated, and Roderich was losing control, unable to do anything but kiss and kiss desperately, and, and…

And Erzsébet pulled her lips away. She eyed him quizzically, and it was only then that Roderich noticed his overcoat lying on the floor. He must have torn it off during his fit of passion. By the looks of things, he had made a good go of his shirt and waistcoat too. How exceedingly uncivilised! Roderich almost felt embarrassed, but he was already so aroused that it blunted the sensation.

"I, er…"

"And to think it only takes that much for you to abandon your demure facade," Erzsébet said. She looked distinctly pleased with herself.

Roderich laughed breathlessly, "I can assure you that I do not usually get like this."

"Oh really?" Giggling, she traced a gentle circle over his chest. Then her tone grew suddenly more serious, "Are you sure you want to do this now?"

Roderich was incredulous. "Erzsébet, I am positively _burning_ for you," he said, well aware of how vulgar that sounded and refusing to care, "But if you don't want to, I shall stop right away."

"Oh I do want to, _very_ much so, it's just… something you said before. Something about considering intimacy improper for couples that haven't been together long."

That got Roderich to pause. He had said those words when decency had been at the forefront of his mind, which seemed rather unimportant at the moment. Yet they still rang true to an extent. If he truly was able to court Erzsébet as he dreamed, there would be no reason to rush. They would have as long as they needed to get to know each other's bodies, and the very thought was tingling bliss.

"Let's not be _too_ hasty just yet…" Roderich said. He pressed his lips to the base of Erzsébet's neck and kissed upwards until he reached her ear, "But if you want this, then… allow me to pleasure you."

He sensed her shiver, heard a groan escape her lips, felt her push her hips more forcefully against his, "Oh _yes."_

That was all the invitation Roderich needed to pull her back into their kiss. Erzsébet responded with such searing enthusiasm that his whole body trembled, and he rapidly lost himself once more in the firmness of her lips, the thrilling brush of her tongue, the lust, the intimacy. Roderich tore off his shirt and waistcoat with impatient, shaking hands, then encircled them around Erzsébet's back to unzip her dress. He did not allow their lips to part for a moment. Gradually, Erzsébet began to tug him towards her bedroom, and he stumbled with her blindly, letting her take the lead. Her dress sank to the floor as they staggered through beaded curtain.

Roderich drew Erzsébet closer, relishing the heated touch of their bare skin together. Erzsébet's fingers were attacking his jabot, whilst he succeeded in unhooking her bra, and slid the straps off her shoulders. He caught his breath as her chest bulged against his, daring him to feel, to indulge. When he pressed his hands against her, Erzsébet broke off the kiss with a tiny moan. The noise shot through Roderich like an electric current, culminating in-between his hips. _Oh,_ it was like music. Oh, he needed to hear that sound again as soon as possible. He worked his hands boldly; exploring the heavenly texture that was both soft and tender, yet firm to the touch at the same time. Using his thumb and forefinger, he found one of the sensitive parts and stimulated it as gently as he could. Erzsébet clutched his shoulders, and her face twisted with pleasure as she opened her mouth to gasp involuntarily, "O—oh, _Roderich!"_

As they tumbled onto Erzsébet's camp bed, Roderich suddenly realised two things. Firstly, he was so overcome with arousal that the strain in his trousers had grown painful. Secondly, there was no sight in the world more divine than that of Erzsébet lying before him, wanting him like he wanted her. Roderich gazed over her while he paused to undo his belt buckle, struck and giddy with his unbelievable luck. He could not comprehend how or why this was happening, nor what he had done to deserve something like this; something so sublime and wonderful that it surely belonged in his fantasies alone. Almost fearful to tear his gaze away, he took off his spectacles, and placed them on the bedside table.

"Hey… those glasses!" Erzsébet said. Her green eyes were alive with delight. "I don't suppose you remember that conversation, do you? It feels like an age ago now."

"Hmmm?"

Erzsébet reached for his hand and slotted their fingers together. "You told me once that your glasses were fake. That you only wear them out of insecurity. And then you told me that you might let me see you without them one day," She squeezed his hand—a gesture of comfort truly touching. "Looks like that day came sooner than I expected."

" _Ah."_ Roderich lowered his head. All the forgotten feelings of uncertainty and decorum came flooding back, and he had to force himself not to stammer. "May I— may I ask if this is acceptable behaviour?"

To his surprise, Erzsébet broke into joyous laughter, "Acceptable? You're sitting here with your trousers unbuckled, without a shirt or even a fluffy cloth, and you ask if removing your glasses is acceptable?" She pulled him down gently, and their bodies pressed together once more, "Roderich, you're gorgeous."

The words were like tainted euphoria. They made Roderich's cheeks flare and they made his heart stutter, but they still could not make his mind understand. He very nearly scoffed, but decided that it would be ungentlemanly, so he kissed her hard instead. And as their lips caressed, as their skin melted into one, Roderich felt nothing but pure happiness swelling inside— so true and so strong that his chest threatened to burst. His anxieties still loitered; perhaps he would not be able to completely lose them for some time. But he knew that by discovering Erzsébet, he could at least make a start.

Pleasuring a lover, by Roderich's experience, was not unlike learning a new instrument. He never expected the process to be quick or simple, nor did he expect to be immediately perfect. He could only trust practice, instinct, and the rousing melody of sounds brought to life. So when it came to Erzsébet, Roderich took his sweet time. He lost track of the many minutes spent worshiping her upper body, manipulating his deft hands until she was taut and quivering. Erzsébet panted into his hair all the while, her hot breaths becoming increasingly irregular as her need grew fiercer. It was only when her nails clawed impatiently at his back that he finally let his hand snake downwards. Donwards and _inwards._

This was a discovery unlike any other. It was a confrontation with his misgivings, a haze of heightened senses, a shared adventure where giving or receiving made little difference. Roderich found himself falling in love with Erzsébet's quirks— how she gasped and shuddered when he cocked his fingers, how the stimulation seemed to electrify her body, how she slammed her hands on the mattress and ran them through her damp hair and begged him for more. He increased the pace as gradually as he dared, mesmerised by the sensations of everything he could feel. The minutes passed with effortless indulgence as Roderich brought her closer. Erzsébet's limbs stiffened, and her face became tinged with rapidly building ecstasy. With frantic fingers, she guided his head down.

"Please," he heard her murmur, her voice trembling, "Oh Roderich, _please."_

Her plea fired over his skin, and Roderich knew he could not have refused if his life depended on it. He complied lazily, feeling with his tongue for just the right spot. After a few tries, he was rewarded with a sweet musical gasp rising from Erzsébet's lips. Roderich worked faster, drawing melody and harmony together into a crescendo. He could practically feel Erzsébet's appreciation, sense it with her every tense breath, with every glorious sound she made, with every sharp tightening and every uncontrollable buck of her hips. Finally, everything burst into climax. Erzsébet arched her back, contorted her features, and exploded in a breathless amalgamation of Hungarian curse words and Roderich's own name. Listening to this was more fulfilling than Roderich had even believed possible, but he was well aware of the main source of his triumph. He had caused it. Deformities and all, he had caused it.

Roderich would have been quite content to end the experience there, basking in the shared rapture of Erzsébet's bliss. Erzsébet, however, seemed intent on paying him back in kind. At this stage, Roderich's need was so unbearable that when she grasped him through his underwear he could not prevent himself from crying out. The single touch caused his whole body to throb with anticipation. He began to moan while Erzsébet ripped away his clothing— frantic, crass phrases like _"Quickly"_ and _"I need you"_ that meant very little but gave voice to his thrumming pulse and the torturous desire twisting low in his stomach.

As soon as Erzsébet touched him— _really_ touched him— Roderich knew he would not be able to last long. She stroked him with quick, clever hands, feeding his passion and drowning him in waves of tingling elation. In some ways it felt familiar, in some ways it felt like nothing he had ever experienced. Because this was more than just the ordinary— this was revealing himself to Erzsébet,and that one stunning fact seemed to deepen the pleasure, intensify the heat, draw him into a world of sense and stimulation where only one other person existed. Perhaps Erzsébet handled him too roughly, perhaps her grasp was firmer that what he was used to, but in the end it didn't matter. Her eagerness, her enthusiasm and her fervent, loving pace more than made up for it. Roderich wanted to lose himself in the throes of her touch, wanted this to stretch on forever, and could not stop gasping Erzsébet's name.

Suddenly, Erzsébet caught his eye, winked, and bobbed her head down. Roderich barely had a moment to question what she might be doing before he felt a sudden warmth and wetness around him. He let forth a shuddering cry. It all felt so good that tears sprang to his eyes and his frame turned rigid. His body strained with frenzied electricity, charging and sharpening to a single focus. _This was it._ He could feel his rapid heartbeat preparing itself. _This was the point of no return._ In one endless second, Roderich jerked, then released upwards as the golden bliss overwhelmed him.

...

Afterwards, they lay on the bed together, tangled in sweat and pleasure and each other's arms. Roderich's passion faded into hazy contentment, and he cuddled Erzsébet to his chest while everything slowed back to normal. He was still thoroughly dazed by what had happened, and as his eyes glanced over the narrow annex and the colourful swirls shining through the ceiling, he had to wonder whether it had all been a dream. But then he felt the pleasing weight above him and remembered that Erzsébet was there. Erzsébet who was touching him lazily, tracing circles over his arms and pressing light kisses into his neck. After the journey they had been through together, it seemed incredible that she could still barely keep her hands off him.

"So it's true, then," she said.

"Excuse me?" Roderich asked, stifling a yawn.

"Musicians really _are_ good with their hands."

Roderich laughed; his laughs came easily now. "Does that mean fortune tellers are good with their mouths?"

Erzsébet grinned wickedly. "I should put that on my advertisements. Speaking of which…" She paused to absently stroke his chest, "What's the competition for soothsayers like in Vienna?"

"I have no idea. Why on Earth would you want to know that?"

"Why do you think?"

Roderich very nearly choked. His heart swelled with doubtful hope. No… surely he was misunderstanding this, surely he was jumping to conclusions. "Erzsébet, are you saying that you'd— you'd come with me? To Vienna?"

"You said it yourself, there's no future in the Fireball Circus now. And even if there was, the memories are too awful," Erzsébet said. She shook her head. "I don't know where my life's heading, but I do know one thing. I want to spend it with you."

Roderich tried to speak, but found that he couldn't. There was a pressure building inside him, both happy and sad, and he could not put it into words. Eventually, he managed to whisper the one doubt in his mind. "Don't you think that would be a little soon? Moving in together?"

"Oh, we don't have to do that just yet. I only mean that I'll get a place near you, rent a room or something so that we can keep seeing each other." Erzsébet smiled. "Would you like that?"

"I would," Roderich said, "Very much."

"Good," Erzsébet sighed softly, and nuzzled her head against his neck, "Wow, living in Vienna and dating an Austrian snob. My family are going to _love_ this."

Roderich knew he ought to have been offended, but he was still so engrossed in the bright rapture of the afterglow that he couldn't bring himself to feel it. Instead, he smiled wryly and kissed Erzsébet's geranium-scented hair. "I suppose I shall try not to sneer at them too much."

Erzsébet flicked his chin playfully, then nestled into his side once more. They lay like that for some time, a comfortable peace and easy sense of belonging rising between them. Roderich wanted to savour the moment for as long as possible, but without a distraction, his mind began to wander back to the reality of a harsher world outside this tent. The mention of Erzsébet's family caused doubt to tug inside him, coiling into a genuine fear that he might be mocked or even shunned for his appearance. Roderich bit his lip. His life was certainly going to be more difficult from now on. Yet he knew somehow that whatever happened, everything was going to be alright. If the one person who truly mattered didn't care about his scars, why should he?

After several minutes cuddling, Erzsébet suddenly bounced up, detaching herself from his arms. "Wait, I've got an idea."

"Hmm?" Roderich raised his head, bemused. Erzsébet had rolled over to the edge of the camp bed and was rifling through her bedside table. She retrieved something from a drawer and, once she had settled back into position, held it out in front of them. With a jolt of panic, Roderich realised what it was, but it was already too late. Before he had time to cover his face, there was a loud snap, then a blinding flash of light burst into his eyes.

"There we go," Erzsébet said. She turned the digital camera over to check the image on the reverse screen, "Awww, we look perfect together! Just perfect."

Roderich blinked heavily, the glare blazing in the back of his eyelids. "Erzsébet, if you insist on taking pictures, please inform me next time so that I don't have to be included."

"But it's the prize of my collection! There's no need to be embarrassed."

Frowning, Roderich turned his head away. Here was yet another of his unspoken insecurities… "I—I'm afraid I cannot put a pose together as skilfully as other people can." _Especially not now,_ he added silently.

Erzsébet made an odd strangled noise in her throat— somewhere between a sigh and a disbelieving, bitter laugh, "Oh, Roderich. I just don't understand."

"Don't understand what?"

She sighed again, and stroked the back of his hand with her thumb. "How you can be the most beautiful person in the world and not even know it."

Roderich's stomach flipped reflexively. Even now, he struggled to trust that Erzsébet could mean those words. They seemed too dramatic, too unreal, too much. Unsure of what to do with the emotions gathering inside, he gestured to the camera in Erzsébet's hand. "May I?"

"Go ahead."

She passed it over, and Roderich peered into the screen. His half-preserved, half-ruined face stared back, wearing an expression of thorough bewilderment while Erzsébet grinned wildly. Roderich grunted in approval. That was not altogether a disastrous photograph considering the circumstances. Out of curiosity, he flicked back through Erzsébet's collection. There were a few that he recognised all too well, such as the video in the van Rjins' caravan and the skewed picture of Lars at Oktoberfest. Most of them, though, were unfamiliar, and Roderich began to notice a definite theme emerging. _Antonio kissing Lovino's nose. Lilli and Luca holding hands. Officer Kølher with his arm around a disgruntled Officer Bondevik. Ludwig and Feliciano pressing their lips together…_

"Erzsébet," Roderich started, "Is there a reason why you have so many, er, _unseemly_ photographs on here?"

"Don't tell me they're injuring your delicate sensibilities!" Erzsébet rolled her eyes, then tilted her head in thought. "I suppose the short answer is that I find couples cute. But there's more to it than that. These pictures show the destination of emotions, the conclusion of all the flirting and sexual tension that came before. But then they also show potential for the growth of something even more beautiful…" She broke off with a happy shrug, trailing her finger over Roderich's stomach, "So in a way, every one of those is both an ending and a beginning."

Roderich arched an eyebrow. In spite of himself, he was quite impressed. "That is actually rather poetic."

Erzsébet simply winked. "Want to know something else? Ours is my favourite story by far."

Unable to suppress a shy smile, Roderich dropped the camera and encompassed his arms around her. He could feel their breath mingling, their chests rising and falling as one. "And I am exceptionally glad to hear you say that…"

They kissed yet again, and although the bed had grown uncomfortable and was really much too small for two, all Roderich thought about was how naturally their lips moved together. He could get used to this. It would take a while— a month, a year, even a lifetime— but he knew that he could get used to this eventually. What a heavenly prospect that was.

Endings and beginnings. Perhaps what Erzsébet said had been true. Behind them, a story of bloodshed, tragedy, and nightmarish ordeals was burning into ashes. But ahead, like a phoenix from the fire, rose the promise of a new future— one for Roderich and Erzsébet to explore together.

* * *

 _Once again, all the tarot cards and their meanings exist in real life._

 _I expect you can all probably tell that this story has nearly reached an end. But it's not over just yet. I'm planning to put in one final epilogue to properly round everything up, which I'll be posting soon._

 _Many thanks for the continued support :)_


	24. Chapter 24

_September 2015_

 _Bavaria_

 _._

"Faster, Roderich! Faster!"

"I am going at a perfectly reasonable pace already, thank you."

"No you're not! Come on, I bet Ludwig and Feliciano go much faster than this."

"Then they obviously lack my maturity."

"You're just making up— _oh!_ Oh, nearly there!"

"What? Already?"

"Yep! Just a little bit more… right _there,_ and… oh for goodness sake!" Erzsébet dropped the map and turned to her companion in exasperation, "You just drove straight past the exit. _Again."_

Roderich took his surprised eyes off the road to glance at the turning that was now rapidly disappearing behind them, "Ah. I do apologise."

Sighing, Erzsébet settled back in the passenger seat and watched the Autobahn flash past the window. She had told Roderich that it would be quicker for her to drive, but as usual, he had insisted. She knew he was trying to appear gentlemanly and competent, trying to show that he could take care her. In reality, Erzsébet was the one who had to do most of the care taking. How was it even possible for someone to get lost as much as Roderich did?

"That does it, we're buying a Sat Nav next time we go shopping," she said, "And I'm paying, so you can't refuse."

Roderich signalled to move into a different lane. He had the grace not to complain, but did manage a little _huff_ that was as adorable as it was affronted. Erzsébet's heart melted slightly, and she leant over to place a kiss on his cheek. No matter how hard she tried, she could never stay annoyed with her uptight Austrian for long.

Forty-five minutes and two minor navigation incidents later, Roderich finally parked their BMW on the outskirts of a small Bavarian town. It was a chilly day, yet surprisingly bright for September. Erzsébet took Roderich's hand in hers as they hurried to their destination.

"Are we late?" she asked.

Roderich glanced at the new, far less ostentatious watch that Erzsébet bought him last Christmas. "Quite considerably. I expect they will have arrived here some time ago."

Sure enough, when they reached the designated meeting place outside a sleepy cafe, there were two people already waiting for them.

"Erzsébet, Roderich! Yay, you're here!" Feliciano bounced up from his chair, almost knocking the table over, "Wow, you're super late, I've never arrived first before. I've had _two_ cappuccinos now, and I thought you'd never come, but Ludwig said it was okay and that Roderich must be driving."

As Feliciano pulled her into a bruising hug, Erzsébet winked at Ludwig over his shoulder. "Well, he wasn't wrong."

"Yes, I'll concede that it was _mostly_ my fault, but we had much further to travel than you," Roderich said, "Besides, you shouldn't have suggested such an early time, you fool."

Ludwig merely sipped his espresso, then stood up to shake their hands in turn. Erzsébet could feel the thick knot of blisters against his palm. Another relic from the fire. "A safe arrival is all that matters. Thank you for continuing to protect my cousin from his own stupidity, Erzsébet."

Erzsébet bowed dramatically. "My pleasure."

"Ve~ I wanted to drive in our new Alfa Romeo so I could show you how pretty and shiny it is! But Ludwig is a massive meanie-pants, so we had to go in his Volkswagen instead."

Ludwig massaged the bridge of his nose. "That's because I don't want to be stopped by the police again. You're lucky they let you off with a warning last time… speeding near a school, honestly."

"I told you, Erzsébet," Roderich said, now looking distinctly smug, "Lack of maturity."

Erzsébet hastily spoke before Feliciano could retort, "Anyway, the point is that we're all here now. Shall we?"

…

The walk took a little over five minutes. Feliciano chattered animatedly the entire time; firstly about his car, then his job as a gymnastics teacher, then all the ex-members of the Fireball Circus troupe. Erzsébet learnt that Antonio and Lovino had moved to Spain where Antonio's family was in the wine business, and that Sebastiano was working in Monaco as a waiter. Apparently, he had been clean for nearly a year, and recently started dating the daughter of a prestigious casino owner. In exchange, Erzsébet told Feliciano about Belle and Lars' six-year prison sentence, Alfred and Matthew's considerably longer one, and that Luca was living back in the Netherlands with his parents.

"Does that mean he can't see that pretty young Swiss lady any more?" Feliciano asked, "Ve~ it must be hard to be in a relationship if you're living far apart."

"Oh, they write and have phone calls, and they're always talking online," Erzsébet said. She'd been eager to keep in contact with both Lilli and Luca after seeing what a sweet couple they made. "I think they're even making plans for Luca to come and stay in Switzerland over Christmas— if her brother allows it."

"Vash and Luca together, good Lord…" Roderich shook his head. "If that young man makes it into the New Year unscathed, then he'll be extremely lucky indeed."

Feliciano bobbed up and down in excitement. "Oooh, Ludwig, we should invite them all over to ours instead! Three more people won't make too much difference."

"It will if we want any goose or lebkuchen for ourselves," Ludwig said sternly, "Remember that we'll have both of our Grandfathers to feed. I don't want to have to serve emergency pasta again."

"Awww, but it's so tasty!"

In time, they passed the narrow streets and red-roofed houses of the residential district and approached a vast field at the town's northern fringe. Erzsébet's pulse thumped rapidly when it came into view. She had been preparing herself for this moment, but it was frightening to discover how raw the memories still were. Though it had once been vibrant, and bustling with life, the field was now stark, unfriendly, and endless. But there was one exception. Now, a modest stone monument stood in the centre. Beside her, Roderich seemed to sense her distress, and enclosed his arm around her shoulder. Erzsébet let herself lean into him, absorbing the comfort of his touch.

There was no need for anything to be said as the four of them crossed the field. Everyone understood already. It had been one year. One year since the troupe had settled in this spot, one year since that fateful performance, one year since the fear and destruction that severed the Fireball Circus beyond repair. Erzsébet could hardly believe that it had happened such a long time ago. Here and there, patches of grass were still squashed or discoloured; a testament to the story that the field staged. Erzsébet marked each one silently as she passed. _Antonio's tomato dome… her own fortune cave… Alfred's tent… the Vargas' tepee…_ She was half-expecting the tents to spring up before her eyes, but the field remained lifeless and barren.

Towards the centre, the grass underfoot became worn and wispy until it thinned out altogether. A huge, circular crater had been left behind, its surface blackened completely. Erzsébet tightened her grip on Roderich's waist. "Is that where…?"

"I believe so."

 _Oh._ A thousand feelings assaulted her at once. Erzsébet turned her head away. She could not bring herself to look at Roderich's face now— to see the love and reassurance mingled with the injuries from that terrible day. All of a sudden, she wasn't sure whether coming back had been a good idea after all. But the monument stood tall and proud at the edge of the crater, and Erzsébet knew that she owed it her respect.

"Hey, look," Feliciano said, pointing suddenly.

At the base of the structure, somebody had placed a wreath of flowers— blue forget-me-nots and pink pansies. Beside the wreath lay a small model crafted out of lego. It had been weathered heavily in the open, but was still recognisable as a pirate ship.

"The _Kriminalpolizei,"_ Erzsébet breathed.

Her eyes stung, so she blinked hurriedly and lifted her gaze up the spire. Bold lettering had been carved into the stone, spelling out a series of names:

In Loving Memory of Lost Lives

Arthur Kirkland

Francis Bonnefoy

Feliks Lukasiewicz

Gilbert Beilschmidt

Peter Väinämöinen

Charlotte Cooper

 _What Matters Most Is How Well You Walk Through the Fire_

"What do you think?" Ludwig said, once she had finished reading.

Erzsébet waited until her bottom lip stopped trembling. "It's _perfect."_

The plan to commission a memorial had begun a week or two before the Fireball Circus was officially disbanded. Every remaining member of the troupe contributed towards the funding, and the support they received from Peter and Charlotte's families was overwhelming. Initially, Erzsébet was opposed to Antonio's suggestion to include Francis and Arthur's names, but the addition gladdened her now. It acknowledged the complexity that came with taking a human life. It traced the full tragedy back to its source. It even felt like a forgiveness of sorts.

"That quotation is so pretty," Feliciano sighed, "Such a good choice, Erzsébet!"

Erzsébet wanted to tell him that it was more important than he knew. She wanted to let everyone know that the deaths could have been prevented if only Alfred and Matthew had been wise enough to heed the words. But she couldn't find the right way to phrase it, so she offered Feliciano a watery smile instead.

Roderich squeezed Erzsébet's arm, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "The tributes, my dear?"

Erzsébet nodded, pulling a small bag from her coat pocket. It was traditional to leave flowers in memorial, but that seemed too impersonal somehow. So instead of tulips or roses, Erzsébet graced the foot of the monument with a bottle of Lowenbrau, and a specially-made My Little Pony with a winged solider on its back.

Ludwig smiled as he surveyed Feliks' gift. "Oh, I see. It's designed like the Polish Winged Hussars."

"Roderich helped me come up with the idea," Erzsébet said. Like Mathias with his pirate ship, she wanted to remember her friends as she'd truly known them. "I think Feliks would have approved of mixing My Little Pony and 17th Century cavalry, don't you?"

Feliciano giggled. "Wow, you two! It's like you copied us, or read our thoughts, or maybe great minds really _do_ think alike." He tugged at Ludwig's sleeve, "Show them, Ludwig!"

Dutifully, Ludwig extracted a package and unwrapped it. A fluffy toy bird tumbled onto his palm, dressed in a tricorn hat and a cape emblazoned with a black eagle. "We have called it Frede-chick the Great. Unfortunately, that pun only works in English."

"Gilbert would be most delighted," said Roderich.

"Ve~ but we only brought flowers for Feliks. I didn't know what he would have wanted, but I looked online and it said that corn poppies were the national flower of Poland, so…" Feliciano took a slightly-squashed, forlorn looking bouquet of red and white flowers from a carrier bag. "Um, I might have sat on them a teeny bit."

Erzsébet choked back a laugh and patted his arm. "Don't worry, sweetie, they're still wonderful."

Ludwig knelt to lie the presents before the monument. He placed Gilbert's chick as close to the stone as possible, where it would be gain more shelter from the elements. After a hesitation, he moved Feliks' pony and the pirate ship there as well. Then he stood up, adjusting his faux military jacket. "So…"

"So…" repeated Roderich.

There was a long, conspicuous pause. Nobody seemed to know what to do next. Erzsébet focused on staring at her feet, the pang of loss more potent than it had been for months.

"So," Feliciano said, "We should say something."

Roderich shook his head. "There is nothing to be said, Feliciano."

"There is too! If we've been able to give Feliks and Gilbert gifts, it should be easy to give them words."

Ludwig fondled Feliciano's hair. "Why don't you do it, _Liebling?"_

"Oh! Um, okay…" Looking slightly terrified, Feliciano stepped in front of the monument and attempted a cheerful wave. "Good morning Feliks, Gilbert. In fact, good morning everyone! We've just come to say hello and tell you that… um… that you didn't deserve to die. It was mean and cruel and horrible— for all of you. But bad things happen in life, and that's why we have to be extra strong to deal with them. And… we want you to know that we're thinking of you. We won't forget you, never ever ever. So, goodbye and sleep peacefully until next time." He turned around, shrugging nervously. "Or something like that. I'm not very good at giving speeches."

The bright sunlight illuminated him from behind, dappling his skin silver, and his soft hair golden. Erzsébet brushed her damp eyes, wondering how it was that this little Italian babbled so much, yet always managed to say the right thing when it really mattered.

"Don't be silly, Feliciano," she said, "Of course you are."

…

They strolled back to the cafe afterwards, for coffee and cake and conversation. Ludwig wanted to know about Vienna, so Erzsébet let Roderich do most of the talking while she ate her way through a feather-light guglhupf. They spoke for some time about Roderich's training, the performances his orchestra had given in the _Staatsoper,_ how he hoped to be recruited into the Vienna Philharmonic one day. Erzsébet told Feliciano about her growing business as a fortune teller, including all the times she had inadvertently terrified her new neighbours, who believed her to be some kind of witch.

Another round of drinks, and the conversation tentatively shifted to Gilbert and Feliks. They began swapping stories, and it surprised Erzsébet how freeing the experience was. There was a time when she could barely think about either of them without wanting to cry; now the tears that streaked down her cheeks were tears of laughter.

"You know, I don't think I've ever seen Feliks as badly behaved as that," Erzsébet said, after another tale featuring Gilbert's drunken loutishness, "He was selfish at times, but surprisingly shy with new people, even when he was a bit tipsy."

Roderich smiled wryly. "Now that I don't believe. Everyone's conduct grows more uncouth when they are inebriated."

"Well," Erzsébet took a sip of her spiced latte. "I suppose there was that _one_ time."

"Oh yes?"

Erzsébet set the glass down, a mischievous grin spreading to her lips. "We went to see _Kung Fu Panda 2_ at the cinema a few years ago. Feliks misread the times, arrived two hours early, and ending up drinking a whole bottle of wine while he was waiting for me. He was so drunk when I arrived that he could barely stand!"

"Is that all?" Feliciano asked, "Ve~ that isn't very much, because I'm sure I've had more wine than that before!"

"Oh no, that wasn't all," Erzsébet said, "Next, he tried to sneak into the screening without a ticket. He hid under the back of my coat and seemed convinced that nobody would be able to see him."

Ludwig covered his face with his palm. "Oh dear… Dare I ask what happened?"

"Well, they caught him, obviously. But he still didn't understand." Erzsébet shook her head, attempting to suppress a giggle, "Firstly he kept insisting that he was invisible and that they needed his 'special Feliks blessing' in order to see him. When the guards kept telling him to buy a ticket, he ending up getting pretty nasty— swearing at them in three different languages, throwing popcorn at everyone, and shouting that it was the 'Feliks rule' for him to have a free seat, and they were disrespecting it. I had to drag him away before they could call the police!"

Everyone laughed, and Erzsébet felt a glow of warmth inside. She didn't know how best to remember Feliks, but recounting silly stories seemed like a good start.

"Your turn now, Roderich," Feliciano said brightly once the laughter died away, "Tell us another Gilbert story!"

Roderich lifted his glasses to dab elegantly at his eyes. "Oh, I'm not so sure. I doubt I can top anything that has been said already."

"Then tell us something new! Tell us about a different side to Gilbert."

"A different side to Gilbert? Hmmm…" Roderich straightened in his seat, smoothing cake crumbs from his lap. "Well, I think it goes without saying that Gilbert and I did _not_ get along most of the time. He was boorish, arrogant, insensitive, and took particular pleasure in undermining me. Yet that is not to say that he didn't have his moments of kindness too."

Ludwig chuckled incredulously. "Roderich Edelstein, singing my brother's praises. I never thought the day would come!"

"I recall one incident clearly— a family gathering in Berlin when we were teenagers." There was a faraway look in Roderich's eyes. "I believe you were revising for exams at the time Ludwig? The rest of the family went out to a funfair, and naturally they had those foolish little crane machines there."

"Oh no, don't tell me," Erzsébet said. A memory from early in their relationship flashed into her mind. "He once tried to win a toy for me on one of those. I've never seen anyone fail so miserably!"

"Well of course, but do you think that would stop the awesome Gilbert Beilschmidt from trying? I don't know how much money he ended up wasting at that accursed machine, but after an ungodly number of goes, he finally managed to win himself a cuddly German shepherd. Needless to say, he was delighted."

Feliciano tilted his head. "But then?"

Roderich continued, twisting the rim of his saucer. "As we were leaving, we noticed a small boy sobbing by the entrance of the arcade. It transpired that he had spent all of his allowance on the crane machines, but to no avail. And he was making the most dreadful racket imaginable."

Erzsébet gasped softly as she realised where the story was heading. "Oh Gilbert…"

"Most people were keen to give this young man as wide a berth as possible." Roderich said, "But not Gilbert. Gilbert simply walked straight up to him with a huge grin on his face, placed that toy dog into his hands, and told the boy that he was awesome enough to take care of it."

Feliciano put both hands to his chest. "Awwww! So cute!"

"That definitely sounds like something Gilbert would do," Ludwig said, smiling wistfully, "He was a very caring brother, deep down."

Roderich inclined his head. "Indeed. I must admit that, while I did have doubts about Gilbert's potential parenting ability, I have always thought he would have made a wonderful uncle."

"Hey Ludwig, Ludwig, I know what we should do," Feliciano said, "I know you want three dogs first, but when we get a child we should name him 'Gilbert' so he'll be remembered! Or maybe 'Gilberta' if it's a girl."

Ludwig nearly choked on his of coffee. "My God, Feliciano! What are you talking about?"

"What? We both know that we want to adopt children one day, and it should be really obvious anyway now that we're—" He broke off suddenly, and clasped a hand over his mouth, "Oops…"

An uncomfortable pause arose. Ludwig groaned loudly and clasped his hand to his forehead. "Oh for goodness sake…"

Erzsébet leant forward eagerly. Something about Ludwig's embarrassment and Feliciano's nervous fidgeting told her that this was bound to be good. "What is it?"

Feliciano and Ludwig exchanged glances. Ludwig sighed resignedly, but Erzsébet could see that there was still a twinkle in his eye. "I should have known you wouldn't be able to keep it a secret. Go on then, Feliciano, you can tell them."

Feliciano nodded in relief, and slipped a hand into his breast pocket. "We weren't sure about telling you today. Ludwig thought it would be respectful to focus on remembrance, and we haven't even made this public yet or anything, but…" He held up his hand for all to see. On his forth finger, there was now a gold band, sporting a glistening glass tomato in the place of a jewel.

Roderich dropped his teaspoon with a clatter. "Oh my word…"

Erzsébet felt her jaw fall open. Her heart was convulsing wildly, practically aching, and joy bubbled in her stomach like champagne. It seemed impossible that the couple she was rooting for only a year ago had come this far. It seemed unreal that Feli, her naive little Feli who was only twenty-one could already have a ring on his finger. But what seemed most surprising of all is that something so positive could have happened in the wake of last year's dreadful grief.

"Um, we're engaged!" Feliciano said waving his hand energetically. It was only then that Erzsébet realised she hadn't spoken yet.

"Congratulations!" Forgetting about the coffee, she threw herself across the table to embrace him. "Oh Feli, Ludwig, what wonderful news!"

"Well, I'm certainly heartened to hear that tradition has not entirely escaped you," Roderich said, smiling politely, "I'm sure you'll be most happy together."

Erzsébet threw him a reproachful look. "Your cousin's getting married! You could sound a bit more enthusiastic, Mr Haughty-pants."

"How very dare you! Behaving with contented restraint is a perfectly valid reaction."

"Don't worry, I understand," Ludwig said. Erzsébet didn't think she'd ever seen him looking so proud. "Roderich will always do things in his own Roderich way."

"Don't remind me," Erzsébet joked. She reached across the table to ruffle Ludwig's hair, "Congratulations, sweetie! When's the wedding going to be?"

Ludwig's smile faded a little. Feliciano shrugged, awkward and apologetic, and squeezed Ludwig's hand. "Um… whenever it becomes legal here, I guess."

"Oh." Erzsébet's cheeks reddened. It was embarrassingly easy to forget that some couples didn't have the same privileges as others. "I'm sorry."

"Please don't be," Ludwig said, bending to kiss Feliciano's head. "There is no need to be sorry about the happiest moment of my life."

Feliciano's cheeks looked like they might split open with delight. It was with some difficulty that Erzsébet resisted squealing. Then, Roderich cleared his throat.

"Indeed. A wedding is always a happy occasion, regardless of whether it has to be postponed. And I know that Gilbert would be exceedingly proud," He lifted his coffee mug, as if to toast them. "Now. I think this calls for more cake, don't you?"

…

 _Marriage._

It was all that Erzsébet could think about on the way home. At first, it was innocent excitement over Ludwig and Feliciano, but as the roads grew wider and the houses fewer, her thoughts began to lapse into fantasies. She imagined how a ring might feel on her own finger. She pictured the leap of her heart from walking down the aisle, the dizzying thrill of looking into a pair of violet eyes as saying 'I do'. Perhaps she was being sentimental, unrealistic. She and Roderich had been together for less than a year, after all. Yet every day that passed only increased Erzsébet's certainty that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.

It was strange really. In all the time she'd been dating Gilbert, not once had she so much as considered the possibility of marrying him. But maybe that was the difference between her relationships. Her love for Gilbert had been bright and exciting, and burnt out fast like a sugar rush. Her love for Roderich was the glowing, enduring kind that she wanted to cuddle to her chest and keep safe forever. Perhaps in a few years there would even be children.

"What are you thinking about?" Roderich's voice cut through her thoughts, lilting gently over the hum of the car engine.

"Oh, nothing really," Erzsébet said. She focused her attention on the map, pretending that had been her only interest. "Um, there's a right turn up ahead."

Roderich wasn't fooled. "You have been unusually quiet. As you know, I have it on good authority that when a woman says 'nothing,' she means 'something'."

Erzsébet grinned shyly. "I was just thinking about how much I love you, is all."

"A most excellent thought, in that case…" Roderich said. His words were like a sigh.

Erzsébet settled back against the car seat and into the pleasant stillness that was theirs alone. By now, the day had drifted into afternoon. The sun shone vividly overhead, peeking in and out of the car windscreen. Seized with a hasty impulse, Erzsébet turned to her boyfriend. "Hey, can you pull over for a moment?"

"May I ask why?"

"We won't get a chance once we join the Autobahn."

Roderich did not answer, but as his eyes darkened, Erzsébet knew he understood. He waited until an appropriate moment, and parked the car in a dip by the side of the road. The engine shuddered to a halt. When Roderich turned to face her, he said no words, but spoke instead with the passion in his gaze. His face was damaged and elegant all at once; so handsome that it hurt to look at. Erzsébet leaned over the handbrake and trailed her lips down the red-and-white bumps of his scarred cheek. She knew that Roderich still bore insecurities about his appearance, and knew equally that she would take every opportunity to remind him that he was gorgeous.

Their lips pressed together, slow and strong and searching. Erzsébet adored how easy these kisses had become. They were no longer the heart-racing kisses of their early relationship, but they were comfortable and felt like home. Yet, as this one was steadily proving, Roderich's lips still held the power to make her body tingle with desire. Perhaps some things never changed.

In time, the kiss broke naturally, and their foreheads gently touched.

" _Erzsébet,"_ Roderich murmured, "Oh Erzsébet, my darling. I love you."

Erzsébet breathed in and out and back in again. Her breath came slightly too fast and she felt herself aching for more, but only one, silly thought occupied her mind. All along, she had been right. Terms of endearment sounded divine in an Austrian accent.

There was a time for remembrance, of course, but that time was not now. Erzsébet let every painful memory of the year before flutter into oblivion. Inhaling the familiar scent, she cupped Roderich's cheek and stared into his eyes. Roderich's violet eyes that were astonishing, beautiful, _hers._ "I love you too. _My flame."_

* * *

 _The End_

* * *

 _(Of course, gay marriage has recently been legalised in Germany, so I imagine that the Ludwig and Feliciano of this universe would now be planning their wedding!)_

 _._

 _So, we have finally reached the parting of ways. I must say, it's making me feel rather emotional. Although I've only been posting this story since January, I've actually been writing and planning it for much, much longer, so finally getting to the point where it is complete and published seems almost unreal._

 _I'd like to thank every single person who has supported me with Fireball Outfit. Everyone who followed or favourited it, everyone who left a worthwhile review, even all the people who just read it. (And yes, that includes YOU). Thank you for putting up with my infrequent updates and tendency to do horrible things to your favourite characters. Without the encouragement, my motivation would have dried up a long time ago, so I mean it when I say that I couldn't have done it without you._

 _If anyone does have further questions or just wants to chat, throw me a PM. I promise I'm friendly! But otherwise, thanks for sticking with me, and farewell!_


End file.
